


The Fourth Winchester

by huntersg1rl



Series: New Beginnings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Family, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Good Friends, Hunters & Hunting, Hunting, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Monsters, Panic Attacks, Saving People Hunting Things, Supernatural - Freeform, great big brothers, idk what else, mentioned rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 57,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersg1rl/pseuds/huntersg1rl
Summary: Sam and Dean have a little sister and it's time to bring her into the fold. AU where Sam didn't kill Lillith, Lucifer wasn't freed, Dean never had to take on the Mark (Cain killed Abaddon), and Amara was never freed. Everything else is the same- plus my OC. Oh- and Castiel and Crowley live in the bunker, because why not?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a story I posted on fanfiction.net and I wanted to transfer it here so I could put the second part of the series on here as well. This is my first fanfic and I'm immensely proud of it. Please, feel free to let me know anything you think I could improve upon throughout the series. Thank you and enjoy!

“Hi, I’m Ava,” my voice falls away. Sucking in a deep breath, I try again. “Hi, I’m Ava.” I sigh, leaning against the sink and looking away from the mirror. It’s no use. They won’t even know I exist for another hour and after that, I’m only going to be a burden to them.  
“Ava?” My caseworker calls from outside, knocking softly on the door. “Are you almost ready? They're going to be here soon and you mentioned wanting to bake them something.”   
“I’m coming,” I respond and head for the door, not looking at the mirror. I don't need to see myself right now. When I open the door, I ask, “Do you think this outfit is alright?”  
“You look great, sweetheart,” Mave, my caseworker, assures me. I glance down at the plain black dress- it's skater style and barely reaches my knees- paired with a long-sleeved purple plaid button down. “Do you know what shoes you’re going to wear?” This is what I love about Mave. Even though she entered my life at the worst possible time, she treats me like a friend, not a helpless child.   
“My black boots, maybe? The combat ones.” She purses her lips, thinking.   
“Those would be alright, but maybe the biker ones would be cuter. A little edgier. And you can add that necklace you just got to pull the look together.” The necklace in question is a simple, black corded necklace with an odd little charm at the end, kinda like a horned mask. I nod. She’s right, that’d rock. It's silly, though, fussing over an outfit when my mom just died. I run my fingers through my hip-length dirty-blonde hair, pulling it from my eyes in a nervous motion.   
“You don’t need to worry. You’re sixteen, almost seventeen. Even if they aren’t cleared to take you, someone would certainly be willing to. There are plenty of homes available.” Mave sets her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, “just go bake. You’ll feel better when you do.” I nod silently and dart off to the kitchen, moving quickly to pull out my ingredients. I prepped everything earlier and made the dough, so all that's left is to fill the pan and put it into the oven. I’m making a triple berry pie- blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. It’s my favorite. I settle into the motions of rolling out the dough and cutting it, feeling tension leave my shoulders as I work. Soon, I forget about everything but decorating the pie. When I slide it into the oven, I realize I have nothing else to do. I flop into the couch, keeping the oven in view but pulling out the small file I have on the guys coming to pick me up- possibly. It’s minuscule, barely any information at all, but it’s something. It has their pictures, too. It also says that they were suspected for a few crimes, but that they were cleared recently.   
“Reading it again won’t turn up any new or different info, you know,” Mave chides from the doorway.   
“I know, but it’s something to do.” I toss it to the side and look at her.   
“You could always make me a jumbo batch of cookie dough. I’m going to miss not having you as my in-house baker.” I laugh.   
“I’ll do that, if you’ll help me. Jumbo batches are two-person jobs,” I hop up and she smiles. “beat you to the pantry,” she dares and we take off. Forty-five minutes later, I’ve pulled the pie from the oven and finished the cookie dough. Only five minutes until they're supposed to be here. I pull on my socks, shoes, and necklace, then lay on the floor, waiting for the knock on the door that could mean the beginning of my new life.  
“Hello?” Mave answers the door. There’s a murmur of deep voices, but in my nervous state, I can’t make out their words. “Yes, I am. My name is Mave and I have quite a bit to talk to you about. If you’ll follow me, right this way.” The door clicks shut and I listen to the clomping of three sets of footsteps heading to Mave’s office. I stand up and start to pace, agitated that she won’t let me meet them yet, but I know that she has to make sure that I’ll be going with them first. Well, and she has to tell them about me being alive, too. I make seventy laps around the living room- it takes just over thirty minutes- before the door opens again. I dart to the kitchen and set the pie on the table.   
“You said her name was Ava?”  
“You’ve asked her that five times. Chill, dude, you know her name.”  
“Well, excuse me for being just a little concerned about meeting our sister. Who, I might add, we didn’t even know existed until a half hour ago.” I wish I could distinguish who is who.   
“Thirty six minutes,” I say as they walk through the door.   
“What?” The shorter one asks. So he was the one who asked my name.   
“It was thirty six minutes since you went into the office. I presume she told you about me within the first minute or two, so you’ve known I exist for around thirty six minutes.” I look towards the ground and rub my right toe into the floor, twisting it back and forth.  
“Wow. That's exact.”  
“I was nervous,” I shrug.   
“You’re Ava, then?” The taller one asks with a gentle voice. I nod. “I’m Sam, this is my- our brother, Dean.”  
“I kind of assumed that,” I chuckle.  
“Would you three like to sit? I can give you some time to get to know each other before we have to worry about paperwork,” Mave interrupts. Dean looks to Sam, eyebrows up, “sounds good to me.” Mave looks at me expectantly, but when I only return her stare blankly, she gestures subtly to the pie. Oh, right. I nod and she leaves the room without another word.   
“Um,” I shuffle my feet, “I made a pie earlier- triple berry- if you’d like some. It should still be warm. We also have ice cream to go with it.” Dean’s eyes go wide at the word pie.   
“Pie!” He exclaims, earning an eye roll from Sam.   
“He means ‘yes, please,’” Sam informs me, smacking Dean on the arm. “I’d like a slice, too, with ice cream, if it’s not too much trouble.” I smile at him and quickly serve the snack, leaning over to hand Dean his pie.   
“Where did you get that necklace?” He asks, his voice somewhere between shocked and horrified.   
“I found it at a garage sale, why?”  
“Whose?”  
“Some guy named Chuck,” I shoot him a weird look, “why?” Dean struggles with his words for a moment and I sit down tensely.   
“I used to have one exactly like it. Sam gave it to me,” he explains.   
“Oh,” I look down at it, “would you like it back, then?”  
“No, no,” he glances at Sam, communicating silently, “I just noticed it and had to ask.” While the necklace did create a bit of a tense moment, it was a great conversation opener. When Mave comes back, they agree to take on guardianship of me- Dean, specifically- and the paperwork is doled out. Next thing I know, my suitcases are packed into the back of a ‘67 Chevy Impala (great car, by the way. Love it.), goodbyes have been said, and we’re driving off to my new home: the bunker.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, someone is almost always home; you shouldn't have to worry about needing the key,” Sam informs me, “we only have the one key. If you ever can’t get in, just go through the garage, which I’ll show you in a bit.”  
“Here’s the foyer, that's the library slash dining room,” Dean points, “kitchen is through this door and bedrooms are over this way.” They lead me down a winding hall. “Sam and I are in those two rooms, Cas and Crowley, who you’ll meet in a bit, have those two, so you can have any other room in this hall.” I wander down the hall, considering how close to them I wanted to be. I definitely didn’t want to be next to people I don't know, so I pick the room directly next to Dean’s. Sam’s room is just across the hall. The boys toss my suitcases into the room.   
“I guess we’ll leave you here for a bit to unpack. Whenever you’re ready, we'll be in the library,” Sam says before leading Dean from the room.   
“Thank you,” I call, “for everything.”  
“It’s no problem,” Sam smiles. Dean was already too far down the hall to hear me. Turning back to the room, I unfold the plain sheets and brown comforter, tucking them onto the bed neatly. I pop open my suitcases and hurry to put my already folded clothes into the dresser. Once I’m entirely unpacked, posters on the wall and photos set around the room, I realize just how little I actually have. I mean, it was barely enough to fill two suitcases. Then again, the fire did burn most of my stuff. I shiver. Best not to think about that. I wander out of the room and try to find my way back to the library. It takes a minute and multiple wrong turns, but I get it eventually. When I get close enough to hear, I realize my brothers aren’t alone.   
“You’ll have to tell her eventually,” a voice with a thick Scottish brogue huffs, “or are you daft enough to think she’ll never notice something’s up?”  
“I agree with Crowley. She is an intelligent girl. She will notice,” a deeper voice rumbles.  
“Well that’s a first,” the brogue- Crowley- exclaims.   
“Guys, this is not your decision. We aren’t telling her today. She's been through a lot and I think we should spread the surprises out a bit,” Sam decides.   
“I’m with Sam. We’ll give her two weeks, maybe a bit more, to settle in,” Dean says, “then tell her.”  
“Tell me what?” I step into the room. They stare for a moment or two, startled, before Dean covers for them.   
“It’s nothing. Are you hungry?” I tilt my head at human's he gestures to the array of food on the table. Maybe this isn’t the best way to do this, but I think it's best to just get it out there.   
“You expect me to eat with both an angel and a demon in the room?”  
“How… How did you know that?” Sam asks, crossing the room to get in my face. I flinch slightly and he backs off a little, but not much.   
“If I focus, I can look past their human faces. It takes a little bit of effort, though. I’m not fully psychic,” I tell them, “just partially. I don't have premonitions or anything like that, I can just see non-humans for what they really are.”  
“That’s useful.”  
“That’s why I never got a foster family until Joanie took me in. That's why Dad abandoned me on the side of the road,” I complain.   
“He what?” Dean growls.   
“It was right after Mom died… almost seven years ago. He knew me for all of four hours before he ditched me. I was labeled schizophrenic when I was really little, before I knew what I was really seeing. According to everyone, I was scared of people for no reason. It wasn't until I stole that notebook from John that I understood there was nothing wrong with me,” I look at Castiel, who has joined Crowley in his endeavor to pretend like they're not listening. “Why can I see you?”  
“I have no clue. It shouldn't even be possible. It is likely just another version of psychic abilities.” Castiel shrugs.   
“Cas,” Dean says gruffly, “could you be more useless?” Cas looks at him, offended, before stalking from the room.   
“I think you hurt his feelings,” Sam and Crowley say at the same time. Dean huffs, “I know. I’ll go talk to him.”   
“So, then, mooseling, are you ever going to eat?” I look down to see a plate of food in front of me at Crowley’s comment.   
“Why did you call me that?” I ask, picking up a grape.   
“Haven't come up with a better creature yet. Sam is moose and Dean is squirrel, but I don't know what suits you yet.”  
“Crowley, leave her alone. She doesn't need your insanity,” Sam grumbles. “I'm sorry about what Dad did.”  
“You couldn't help it. You didn't even know I was alive. Doesn't matter now, anyway,” I assure him, stomach twisting at the slight lie. Yeah, it doesn't matter anymore because I’m with them now, but the nightmares won’t go away. Not anytime soon.   
“I have a question,” Crowley announced. “Can you see hell hounds?”  
“Never had the chance to find out,” I shrug.   
“Crowley- do not call her,” Sam snaps just as Crowley calls for someone named Juliet. All of a sudden, a huge dog sprints into the room.   
“Holy hell, she's big,” I cuss, leaping back.   
“Well that answers that question,” Crowley chuckles. Sam just glares at him.   
“I did not want dog stink in my library.”  
“Poor moose. And hush, she can hear you and she doesn't like people who are rude,” Crowley teases, but Juliet actually snaps playfully at him before walking over to sniff at me.   
“She's like a real dog!” I exclaim. “Does she play fetch?”


	3. Chapter 3

“I think she's brought the same sword back to you plenty of times now,” Sam whines, rubbing his eyes. “Can we talk now?”  
“What about?” I throw the sword again, making it all the way to the stairs this time. Juliet sprints after it, her thick legs carrying her heavy frame with shocking speed.   
“School. I know the year is already started, but you still have to go.” I groan.   
“Seriously? Can't we just say I’m homeschooled?” The sword clatters at my feet.   
“No, we can't. You need a real education so you can go have a-” he pauses.   
“Normal, apple pie life,” Dean finishes.   
“You think I’m capable of having a normal life? There's a whole lotta problems with that. Let's start with the most obvious- my last name: Winchester. Ringing any bells? Or how about my ‘schizophrenia?’ I know, I don't actually have it, but I haven't been seen by a therapist for years, so it’s still on my medical forms,” I toss them a droll look as I throw the sword yet again. Under my breath, I add, “and how about everything you don't know yet?”  
“You know we have to send you,” Sam argues.   
“You’re not gonna budge on this, are you?”   
“Nope,” Dean confirms.   
“What schools are in the area? And if I've gotta go, I need a shopping trip.”  
“I don't know what the school is, but I’ll have you registered soon.”  
“Why, exactly, do you need a shopping trip?” Dean moans, knowing he’s the one who’ll get stuck taking me.   
“My whole life fits in two suitcases.”  
“Yeah, so?”  
“So I’m a teenage girl whose belongings all recently burned up. I need new stuff. Most importantly, clothes and bedsheets. I'm not liking the brown.” Before they can argue, I turn and walk back towards my room.   
“Fine! But you have to get Cas and Crowley to take you,” Dean shouts, thinking it’s a threat.   
“Fine!” I yell back, smiling to myself. I can get them to take me. Tomorrow. I’ll ask them tomorrow, I think as I yawn. I need sleep for now.   
Time jump: the next morning  
I sit up slowly, the smell of coffee the only reason I’m getting out of bed right now. Ugh, my room really needs a clock, I huff to myself, adding another item to my list. I dress quickly in a pair of jeans and a simple floral tank top. With a cargo jacket, light makeup and a tight ponytail, I’m ready to roll. I glance at the door with trepidation. Maybe I should get my shoes on first. Or I could braid my hair. Or do something else that will take a while.  
Bang. Bang. Bang. Someone knocks on the door, startling me so bad I almost scream.   
“Ava? Are you up?” It’s only Sam. “I figured out what school you’ll be going to. They said we can come get a tour today.”  
“Yeah, I’m up. I’ll be right out.” I look back at the mirror, second guessing the outfit.   
“We’ve got to leave in a half hour if we want to make our visit time. Dean made breakfast for us.” I sigh, then grab my shoes and hurry to the door. “Oh, good. You’re ready.”  
“You’re lucky I woke up a while ago. If I'd just woken up now, we would be late for the tour,” I inform him, before adding, “girls take longer to get ready.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind. Food?”  
“Please.” We walk to the kitchen- Sam made me lead the way- as he tells me about the school. It's the public one, not huge but not small either. Around 2,000 students with 20 student class sizes. Apparently it's one of the best in the area.   
“Will I have to take the bus?” I ask as we enter the kitchen. Sam glances at Dean, who shrugs.   
“I don't mind driving her, but she’ll have to take the bus when we go on our trips,” he says, taking a bite of his sugary cereal.   
“Thanks,” I grin. “And your trips- those are for hunting?”  
“How do you know about that?” Sam sounds horrified and almost angry at the same time.   
“Well, when Dad ditched me, he left my stuff with me, too, except he also left a notebook. It's what helped me figure out that I’m not insane,” I look up at them to from serving myself. “It never mentioned you. It was more clinical. How to identify it, kill it, and where Dad found an example of them.”  
“He had another journal?”  
“No,” I shake my head, “this is just a notebook. It almost looks like he was trying to design a training manual for beginning hunters. I never learned to fight so I couldn't use it, but I kept it nonetheless. There was a phone number for a place called the Roadhouse. I’d call it whenever I found a monster, tell Ellen or Ash and they’d have it taken care of.”  
“Wow. And here we thought you wouldn't know anything about hunters,” Dean comments with his mouth full. Sam shoots him a disgusted look. I sit and start to eat, ignoring their silent communication. A snort from behind me draws my attention to Juliet.   
“Why hello there,” I coo, “how’s my sweetheart?” I glance up to see Crowley watching me. When he looks away, I sneak Juliet a strip of bacon.  
“Did you just give her bacon?” He looks horrified as she scarfs it down. I just blink innocently at him. He grumbles something under his breath and stalks off. I snicker and go back to eating.   
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Dean asks, eyeing my shirt doubtfully.   
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” I gasp, looking down and searching for a problem.   
“I just don't see why you can’t wear an actual shirt.”  
“It’s a tank top. It is a shirt.”  
“No. It's an undershirt.”  
“It is not.”  
“Dean, leave her alone. It's a shirt. And she's wearing a jacket over it,” Sam interrupts, exasperated.   
“I just-” Sam shuts him up with a glare.   
“Are we all ready to go?”  
“I just need to put my shoes on,” I tell him around a mouthful of eggs. He rolls his eyes.   
“I'll meet you guys in the garage.” Sam walks off, keys to the Impala in hand.   
“Hey! Give me those!” Dean shouts and darts after him. “I’m driving!”


	4. Chapter 4

The school building looms, three stories tall. We climb up the front steps and are greeted by an overly-excited middle aged woman.   
“Hello and welcome to Kripke High School! I’m Principal Grove. Who did I speak to on the phone?” She smiles, red lipstick brilliant against her coffee stained teeth.   
“That’d be me, Sam,” he introduces himself. “This is my brother, Dean, and my sister Ava. Dean is her legal guardian.” The woman nods sagely, “I'm sorry for your loss,” looking at me, she adds, “I hope you’ll grow to enjoy Kripke High.” We walk inside and she walks us quickly through the building, pointing out important rooms and halls, before stopping at her office.   
“Alright, well, all we have to do now is a little paperwork to get you registered and pick your classes,” Grove says, handing Dean and I each a small packet.   
“Here,” Sam offers, “I’ll help you pick your classes.” About an hour later, I've picked out the four classes that I could. Here, English, math, and physical education are required. I picked advanced biology, psychology, and, after a bit of debate, a beginner’s string class (I’ll be playing cello). Sam thought I needed to take a foreign language, but I decided against it. I figure I’ll end up learning Latin from the boys, so why bother. After the secretary puts me into my new classes, they give me my schedule and locker assignment.   
“We fully understand if you do not start tomorrow,” Principal Gove assures me, “those grades will be excused. But it would be best if you start classes on Friday. That is when we will tell your teachers to expect you.” She glances at her watch. “It's actually lunchtime right now. Would you like to eat here? Meet some people before you start classes?”   
“Um,” I glance at Sam and Dean, who nod for me to choose. “Sure, why not.” Maybe it will be better to know some kids before I have to start classes.   
“Good. I’ll take your brothers to pick up your class books. I trust you remember where the cafeteria is?” I nod. “Off you go, then.” Dean hands me a ten as I leave. A bell rings just then and kids fill the halls. My eyes go wide and I freeze.   
Boom. Someone's book falls against the floor.   
“Oh, my gosh,” I cry, “I’m so sorry.”  
“Oh, it’s alright,” the girl says quickly. I hand the book back to her. “Are you new here?” I bob my head yes. “That explains the terrified look on your face. Want help finding wherever it is you’re headed?”  
“Please,” I sigh gratefully. While I’m sure I could find the cafeteria if I tried, i’d rather have someone show me. “I’m looking for the lunchroom.”  
“Are you a junior?”  
“Yeah, are you?”  
“I am. We split the lunch periods up by grade level here, so that's actually where I’m headed now,” she grins. “I’m Mandy, by the way.”  
“Ava,” I smile back and she starts down the hall with me at her heels.   
Time lapse: two hours  
I giggle happily at my book-- The Wizard of Oz-- and hear the clomping of hellhound paws.   
“Why hello, Juliet,” I scratch behind her ear. “What are you up to, silly girl?” She snuffles happily at my hand, nudging it to where she wants me to pet her. I chuckle.   
“Do not turn my hellhound into a house dog,” Crowley orders, “I spent a long time training her to be evil.”  
“She can be evil to everyone but me,” I tell him, giving her a kiss on the head. “Hey, by the way, Dean told me to tell you that you and Cas are taking me shopping tomorrow. I need stuff for school.” Crowley pouts and whines under his breath.   
“Seriously?”  
“Yes. Shopping. It won't kill you, I promise.” I raise my eyebrows at him. He doesn't stop pouting, so I pull out my puppy dog eyes. “Please, I really need to go and they won't take me.” Like everyone does, he melts at the eyes and acquiesces.  
“Fine. We'll take you. But you owe me.”  
“Yay!” I squeal, pretending to be overly excited. Now, I'm not saying I'm not excited, I just am not happy enough to squeal like a little girl. Crowley rolls his eyes and stomps off, muttering something about ‘bloody teenage girls’ and our ‘bloody shopping trips.’ I giggle and turn back to my book. Ten minutes later, a shout catches my attention.   
“I am not going shopping!” It’s Cas. I start to laugh, trying and failing to keep it super quiet. At my feet, Juliet perks up.   
“I think Castiel just found out about tomorrow’s shopping trip,” I tell her, leaning down to rub her belly. The sound of wings beating reaches my ears and I look up to see Cas standing uncomfortably close.   
“I refuse to go shopping.”  
“It's one time. One day. Really, it won't be that bad. I just need you to carry bags for me. You can do whatever while I'm actually shopping. Plus, I think you’re supposed to be the transportation.” He doesn’t look like he’s going to agree, so I use the same trick I did on Crowley. “Pretty please?” He glares down at me for a moment, but I don't give in, holding the look. Finally, he sighs and I know I've won.   
“We’re going shopping,” I sing loudly, laughing. He just huffs off to another room, leaving me to read in peace, something I do gladly.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I wake to the alarm I set on my phone (for 6:30) and hurry to get dressed. I want to make breakfast for everyone today. Once I've got my hair pulled back into a tight bun, I rush to the kitchen. I note with a smile that no one else is up yet- well, no one but Juliet.

"Hey, sweetie. Are you hungry?" She leans against my leg for a moment, but when I don't pet her, she flops onto her side with a little whine. "Guess not," I chuckle and set about pulling down ingredients. I think I'll make single-serving quiches. You bake them in muffin tins and can make twelve or eighteen in a larger batch. Given how much Sam and Dean eat, eighteen would probably be my best bet. The crusts take me only a half hour to make because I have my recipe memorized. I add in the egg mixtures and slip the quiches into the oven. It will take around forty minutes to bake them and they have to rest for fifteen minutes after they come out of the oven, but all the work is totally worth it. As they start to bake, I whip up the dough for cinnamon rolls. I slip them into the oven so that they'll come out at the same time as the quiches then settle in to wait with part of the Encyclopedia of Ancient Languages.

"What smells delicious?" Dean grumbles, stumbling to the table as I pull everything out of the oven.

"Quiches and cinnamon rolls. Wait a few minutes and you can have a roll, but the quiches have to sit," I say as I smack his hand away from the steaming food.

"When did you learn to cook?" He wonders aloud.

"I was taking pre-culinary school classes at my old high school. They don't offer any of the same caliber here, so I didn't even bother." Sam strides in at the end of my sentence, looking entirely put together, a complete contrast to Dean.

"What smells delicious?" I snicker to myself. Guess they're not so different after all.

"Quiches and cinnamon rolls. The quiches need to sit for a few more minutes, but you can have a cinnamon roll," I offer. Dean leaps from his seat and shoots across the room, snatching three rolls in one go. Sam shakes his head and walks over calmly, taking only two. I grab one for myself and check on the quiches. As soon as Dean finishes his rolls, I put three on a plate for him and set it on the table. I do the same for Sam before serving myself and sitting down to eat.

"This is amazing!" Dean exclaims, mouth full.

"They really are," Sam agrees.

"Thanks," I grin and take a bite. I glance at the clock when I'm done eating (it's 9:30, now) and excuse myself to go do my makeup. Fifteen minutes later, I set out through the bunker to find Cas and Crowley.

"What do you want?" Crowley complains when I finally find them flipping through some of the archives.

"You two promised to take me shopping today. The mall opens in five minutes. We gotta go," I remind them, walking away before they can argue.

"Do I really have to take her shopping?" I hear Cas ask Dean down the hall.

"Yes. You do. You told her you would, remember?" Crowley growls but allows Cas to transport us to the mall.

"Alright, this-a-way, boys," I smile and skip to the entrance. Someone unlocks it just as I walk up. "Perfect timing." I stride inside, pouting boys at my heels, and begin the hunt for cute clothes.

** Time lapse: three hours **

"How many skirts do you need?" Cas whines while I inspect a navy blue skater skirt in the mirror.

"Look, I need at least one in dark blue, light blue, black, white, and baby pink. Then I need some patterned ones- plaid, floral, Aztec- and a few maxi ones. Not to mention denim skirts and mini skirts." I glare at him in the mirror. "If you don't want to help, go sit down somewhere. But it's not like I'm just shopping for fun, I'm trying to replace my entire wardrobe. All my clothes burned up. So I've got to start over." The skirt I'm wearing looks good. It took me a little while to find a store I liked with decent pricing. I finally decided Forever 21 would be good for skirts and crop tops, Buckle for all the denim I need (jeans, skirts, and jacket) and Gap for my jackets. I already know my size, I was only trying everything on to annoy them into leaving me alone so I can pick out some skimpier stuff without them making me put it back. And it worked, the suckers. I slip back into the changing room and pull out the skin tight mini skirts and dresses and barely there low cut tops. Quickly, I pull them on, checking each one carefully but speedily, and finally settling on four skirts, two dresses, and five tops. Score.

"Hey," I say as I approach them. "Would you hold these while I go try on shoes? I only need a few."

"Fine," Crowley agrees, if somewhat disdainfully. "Got nothing better to do." I roll my eyes and walk away, gathering the shoes I found from around the store. There's boots, sandals, wedges, and even heels. This is why I love Forever 21. Ten minutes later, I've made all my selections and lead my assistants to the checkout.

"Please tell me we're done," Cas sighs as we leave the store.

"We've only got one more store to go to: Walmart." Why, you ask? Because it's the only place that sells room décor and school supplies in one place. "I swear, it will take less than an hour. It's just school supplies and some stuff for my room."

"If we must," Crowley gives in, knowing it'll end up happening either way. After dropping the bags off at the bunker, Cas carries us to the nearest Walmart, where I pick out bed sheets, a comforter, a body pillow, some decorative pillows, a lamp shade, alarm clock, a few other little trinkets for my room, and basic school supplies.

"Do you guys- never mind, you don't eat, I forgot." I almost asked if they wanted to stop for lunch on our way back, but that wouldn't make any sense for an angel or a demon. Cas rolls his eyes and takes us home. After a quick snack, I head to my room to start getting settled in. I put away all the new clothes first, filling the closet with nineteen skirts, two pairs of jeans, twenty three shirts, ten dresses, four jackets, a coat, three purses, and twelve pairs of shoes. I stick my new perfume, makeup, lotion, and hairbrush on the dresser. Then I pull out my new backpack (it's an adorable black leather bag) and fill it with everything I need for school. Finally, I can start on my actual room.

I strip the sheets from my bed, pulling my new indigo ones onto it. The comforter, a pretty royal purple with navy blue trim and lace patterning, settles offer it with stunning contrast. I place the light purple body pillow across the headboard and set my other pillows against it. My rug comes next, a shaggy and soft navy blue with lighter highlights, and is smoothed out on the left side of the bed when you're facing into the room. I flip the old lamp shade off and cover it with my new lavender one. I stick the black alarm clock on the bedside table and my new blue lava lamp on the desk. Then my posters go up: ones of my favorite bands, favorite cute guys, and favorite shows cover the entire wall behind my headboard. A calendar goes on the closet door and a chalkboard/cork board on the wall above my desk. A full length mirror is settled on the back of my door. I stick the miniature bookshelves I found on both the desk and nightstand (each holds seven books). Finally, I pull out the last thing. It's been sitting in the hall this entire time, but it's time to bring it in. I slip out into the hall, step over the pile of cardboard and trash, cut off the box, and drag the huge bean bag chair behind me into the right corner of my room, on the same wall as the door.

"Sam, Dean! Do you wanna see my room?" I call as I run through the bunker, grinning giddily.

"Is that what you've been doing all this time?" Sam asks, not glancing up from his book.

"Yep," I squeal. "Wanna see?"

"Maybe later, Ava," Dean mumbles, "we're doing research."

"Right," my heart falls. I'd been so excited, thought maybe they'd care. I try not to let my disappointment show. "Okay. Another time." But there is no second chance. They've broken my heart, showing me yet again that I'm unloveable.  _After all_ , I think bitterly as I close my new door,  _my own mother didn't love me and neither did my father. Why should they?_  Despair crashes around me, clutching me and dragging me down.

I hadn't told them everything. When the doctors confirmed that I'm not schizophrenic, they also diagnosed me with severe depression and PTSD. They wanted me hospitalized for it, but said if I agreed to take the meds, they'd let me go back to the group home. I also do a small self-help coping technique that may or may not be healthy. But the docs don't know that. My eyes slide to the bedside drawer where that little silver piece is hidden from where I'm leaning against the door. As I walk over, trembling because I know relief is so close, I don't know what's happening out in the library. I don't know that Crowley is yelling at Dean and Sam for ignoring me. I don't know that Dean starts to come to my room to apologize. So when he knocks, I just yell for him to go away and wallow in my painful relief for a little while longer. Just until I fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, my eyes open to the sound of an alarm blaring. I glance down at myself to find I'm still dressed in yesterday's outfit. I lunge for the alarm so no one will come to tell me to turn it off. I set my alarm so I'd have over an hour to get ready, so I take my time picking an outfit (a denim skirt, peach tank top, and lacy overshirt with white converse) and doing my hair into two French braids. Only once I've done my makeup as perfectly as it will get do I leave my room. Backpack slung over one shoulder, I bundle up some fruit and a little brownie into a paper bag for my lunch and grab a banana for breakfast.

"Hello, mooseling," I turn to find Crowley leaning against the doorway, "ready for your first day?"

"Not really," I shrug, "but I'll survive."

"Of course," he agrees and walks away.

"Ava!" Dean shouts, "we gotta roll so you're not late!" I respond quickly that I am on my way and hurry off.

"Nervous?"

"A bit." Extremely. I'm starting a new school! How could I not be?

"Don't worry about it," he says, "kids from school don't really matter in the end."

"I suppose not." The conversation dies off there and I spend the rest of the drive staring out the window.

"Well, here you are," Dean says when we pull up to the school. "Have a good day."

"You, too." I jump out and make my way into the crowd of kids. It takes a few minutes, but I locate my locker and shuffle around my stuff so my backpack isn't so heavy. My first class is a sleeper class- English- which I'm immensely grateful for. No way I manage to wake up in time for math or science first period. I hunt down the classroom and make a beeline for the teacher's desk.

"Hi, I'm Ava," I introduce myself. "I'm new, but I think I should be on your roster."

"You are," he assures me. "I'm Mr. Moffat." He gestures to a seat along the windows. "You can go ahead and sit there after I introduce you."

"Alright," I murmur. I hate having to stand in front of the class. At least I have a nice outfit, though. The bell rings a few moments later and the teacher claps his hands once.

"Good morning," he calls and the class mumbles it back. He sighs. "I really should be used to your lack of enthusiasm by now, but it still manages to agitate me. Oh, well. We have a new student, everyone. This is Ava. Do you have anything you'd like to tell us about yourself?"

"Not really…"

"How about why you moved here?" I stiffen up.

"There was a fire." I try to remain nonchalant, but my voice sounds a bit tense. He doesn't mention it, though, instead apologizing for my loss and sending me to my seat.

"Now, if you'll all take out…" Aaand hello, monotony. After forty-five minutes of discussing some old text, the bell rings and we're released with the simple assignment of reading a chapter. Each class goes something like that. Most kids don't say much to me, aside from an introduction, but a few try to make conversation, which is nice. Eventually, lunch arrives and I'm at a loss for who to sit with. I hesitate when I get to the cafeteria. Do I go with the kids I ate with on Wednesday? They were nice enough to me, but seemed a bit high and mighty. Problem is, I don't really know anyone else.

"Ava, right?" A cute girl with big, black glasses around rich whiskey-colored eyes set in a soft, round face framed by an adorable pixie cut appears beside me. I nod. "I'm Misty. Would you like to sit with us? You don't have to, of course, you just looked a bit lost."

"No, no. I'd love to. Not really a fan of being the new kid," I sigh. Misty chuckles.

"I feel you there. I was new here last year. I found my friends, though. They're awesome." She leads the way to a table filled with kids discussing Doctor Who and Sherlock and Star Wars. "Guys, this is Ava. She's the new girl."

"Hi, Ava," they all chorus, then laugh.

"We sound like an elementary school class," one of them chortles. It's a guy with short brown hair, classic nerd glasses, and a Doctor Who t-shirt on. Misty sits and I take the seat next to her and, consequently, Doctor Who boy. "Hi! I'm Aiden. Please agree that Doctor Who is the best show ever."

"Nice to meet you, Aiden. And I can't say I agree or disagree. I've never seen it. I do like Sherlock and Star Wars, though. I've seen Star Trek, but I'm not the most knowledgeable about it."

"You haven't lived until you've seen Doctor Who," Aiden declares.

"He's right," another girl agrees. "Even if you don't love it, you've at least got to watch a few episodes." She smiles, flashing perfect teeth. "I'm Jenna."

"Hi," I smile back. She pushes her golden blonde bob out of her eyes and returns to her conversation with the brunette across from her.

"What classes are you in?" Misty asks.

"Um, the required ones, biology, psychology, and beginner's strings," I lost.

"Oooh! I'm in the string class, too," she squeals. "What instrument?"

"I picked cello."

"Fun," she giggles. "I went with cello-bass."

"What?"

"The huge one they stand in back with."

"Oh. I think I know what you're talking about."

"You do," Aiden chimes in, "you just don't know it by name. I play cello in the orchestra here. If you want help learning to read music and such, let me know. It can be a bit overwhelming at first."

"Thanks," I relax a bit, smiling brightly. I think I just made two friends. Go, me! Once we're through with lunch, I head off to biology. At least now, I recognize a few people in my classes and can talk to them without it being weird. I suffer through the next three classes and finally, it's time for cello lessons. I'm oddly excited, probably because it's something cool and interesting compared to the rest of my day.

"Welcome to music," the teacher, Mr. Matthews, says with a happy smile. "Always glad to take a new student. I've got it here that you'll be doing cello, so I took the liberty of signing one out for you to take home for the next two weeks. I just assumed you'd like to catch up. I'm going to have one of our cello players from orchestra give you private lessons for about a week. His name is Aiden. He's one of my best students." Me. Matthews sends me to the storage area to get "my" cello, then shows me to a small room, called a practice room, where Aiden will be teaching me.

"Hello, teach," I chuckle.

"I should've figured out it'd be you I'm teaching when you mentioned this class earlier," he shakes his head. "Sometimes, I'm just extremely thick." He sets about showing me how to set up and hold the instrument, then moves on to where my fingers should go. "Scales are the best way to learn the notes," he informs me, very matter of fact, "so I want you to practice those. It's easy, see?" He demonstrates one. "Just start on this string and go up note by note until you hit this one, then go back down. Just practice this one for tonight, alright? Once you can do one really well, the others just sort of fall into place." We exchange numbers so I can call him if I need help and the bell rings. After saying our goodbyes, I lug my cello outside to find my ride. When I don't see the flashy Impala and none of the guys answer their phones, I settle in for a long wait, knowing it'll be a while. And I'm proven right when I get a phone call from Dean two hours later saying he's on his way. If only he knew how much his doing this really hurt me, maybe he'd stop blowing me off. But no, I can't tell him. Too risky now. Maybe someday.


	7. Chapter 7

Things settle into a decent pattern. My brothers ignore me unless I make them food, Crowley is weirdly nice, Cas is stand-offish (although, supposedly that's just his personality), and my friends at school are the bomb. Misty and Aiden have developed into my best friends and I can complain about anything to them. They know just about everything about my life (just not the fact that I do, in fact, see monsters) and still care about me. I'm content with how things are and am glad I chose to have Mave help me find them.

Of course, everything good comes to an end. Mid-quarter grades came out.

"Ava!" Sam yells at the top of his lungs. "Get out here!" Terror races through me. What the hell? I sprint to the library as fast as I can. "The fuck is this shit?" Sam waves a paper in my face.

"What?"

"Your mid-quarter report card just arrived. You've got two D's and everything else is a C, except for strings! I happen to know your grades at your last school were straight A's, so either you have a stellar explanation for this, or you're grounded."

"Seriously? You need me to explain when I've tried to talk to you about it every night for the past three weeks?"

"You haven't mentioned school at all to us!" Come on, are you kidding me? I ran out of antidepressants two weeks ago. My legs and arms are in tatters, which is the only reason I haven't gone off the deep end. And these idiots haven't noticed a damn thing!

"No, but I've mentioned that I need to have a prescription filled!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Dean joins in with a snarl.

"Did you two not read a single page of my profile?" They stare at me blankly. "Severe depression, PTSD? I need my antidepressants to function and you two dumbasses won't fill the fucking prescription, which I can't do because I'm too young! They don't give prescription meds to minors without a guardian present!"

"Shit," Sam whispers. Dean just frowns.

"Wait, if it's that serious, then how are you still functioning at all?"

"I think that has something to do with the blood I've been smelling, doesn't it?" Cas asks from behind me. "I assumed it was just a very long period, but it's not, is it?" I hadn't heard him arrive, so I choke at his comments. Well, and the fact that he just gave away my best-kept secret.

"Wait- you-" Dean chokes. I just raise an eyebrow. "Nope. I'm gonna go fill that prescription now and then we'll get you a good therapist."

"Why would you do that?" My voice is soft, confused, not accusatory.

"You're my sister. You're family."

"You haven't been acting like it," I whisper. "You ignored me pretty much the entire time I've been here."

"Oh, Ava," Sam chokes out, rushing over to hug me. "We didn't mean to. We were just trying to give you space so you could settle in." He pulls me tight and I press my ear against his heart. We stand there for a minute. Apparently, he can feel the forgiveness in my embrace because no words are said the entire time. Dean takes his place next, leaning down to speak in my ear.

"I won't pretend to understand how you feel. We need to hear your entire story sometime, but I didn't want to read it from some stupid file, I wanted you to tell us. Forgive me," his voice cracks, "please."

"Of course I forgive you," I breathe into his ear. "Just promise me two things: don't ignore me again and don't beat up on yourself. You were trying. We're bound to mess up a bit. After all, none of us have ever really had a normal family."

"I promise," he agrees instantly, before pulling away. "But we're still getting you a therapist."

"I had one, until I moved away. I'll send him a message, see if he recommends anyone near here."

"Good," Dean nods, continuing, "and once you're done, come back out here, okay? We really need some chill time. Maybe a movie. After I fill that prescription."

"Alright, if you insist," I tease, heading from the room with a broad smile on my face. "And guys? Thank you."

"C'mon, Crowley, you missed the heart to heart!" Sam jokes around, knowing I'm still within earshot. His voice is still a bit tense, but he's trying. That's what matters.

"I did not. I just don't like bloody emotions. Nasty buggers." Crowley huffs. I chuckle softly at the sound of him saying "buggers," then continue on to my room to send that email. Dean returns an hour later with a bottle of pills. Instantly, he starts badgering me to take a dose.

"The pharmacist said that if you'd missed any, you should take one now."

"And that's not what my doctor told me," I argue back. It's been going on for the better part of ten minutes, now. "He's got me on a carefully monitored schedule. I'm not screwing it up, no matter what the pharmacist said. They don't know me or my issues. I'll take one first thing in the morning."

"But-"

"No buts!"

"I think Dean's right," Sam hollers from the next room, where he's picking out a movie.

"Nobody asked you," I respond.

"Well, if Sam agrees with me, then I must be right." My eyes narrow at his statement.

"Are you telling me that I don't know how to take the meds I've been taking on my own every day for two years?" I hiss at him. He takes a step back.

"You know what, I trust you." Dean hands the bottle to me and runs from the room.

"Whimp," Crowley calls after him.

"Shut up," Dean responds. Ten minutes later, three fourths of the Winchester children are settled on a bed watching a low budget, possibly pirated superhero movie together like normal people.

Like normalcy ever lasts.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean's phone started ringing in the middle of dinner about a week later.

"Ellen? What's up?" Someone talks on the other end. "Yeah, I know, it's been awhile since we have." Pause. "We're totally down for a job. What's up?" This time, he's silent for nearly two minutes. He makes eye contact with Sam "Hoard of demons?" Sam nods. "We'll take it. Send me all the info you got."

"Hoard of demons?" Sam enquirers as soon as Dean hangs up.

"Yeah, apparently there's like five of them in one place," he pauses. "It's in Texas." They both look at me.

"It's alright. You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sweetie," Sam sighs, "we will be."

"Okay," I take a deep breath, trying to maintain a grip on my emotions. "Well, finish eating, then go do your research. I'll see you in the morning before you leave." We eat the rest of our meal in relative silence. The only comments are on how they'll miss my cooking while they're on the road. The boys settle into the library to dig up everything they can on the demons. While they work, I get comfortable in the kitchen, ingredients strewn around me as I make an insane amount of food. Rolls, cake, sticky buns and other non-perishables are the majority of what I make, but I also prep some sandwiches and pasta and salad for them. Well, the salad is mainly for Sam, but who knows, maybe Dean will try it. Ok, who am I kidding? I chuckle to myself at the idea of "warrior" Dean eating "rabbit food." It would never happen. I'm up through the night baking and cooking for them, making sure everything is perfect. Finally, I finish up a cluster of mini-pies (pecan, peach, mixed-berry, and apple).

"Have you been cooking all night?" Crowley's heavy brogue reaches my ears just as I start mixing up some waffle mix.

"Yeah," I sigh, "stuff for the boys while they're gone. I cook and bake when I'm nervous."

"I see. Pity I don't eat, then."

"Can you eat? I was under the impression you couldn't and that's why you never joined us for meals," I ask as my brow furrows. If you can eat, why wouldn't you? Food is delicious.

"Hm. Well, I suppose I could. I just don't need to."

"Then I can cook for two while my brothers are away," I smile, "I don't like eating alone."

"What about Castiel?" Hmm. Good point. I can cook for three! Wait- didn't he say something about how food tastes being annoying? Darn.

"I thought he said food tastes like molecules and that's why he doesn't eat?" Crowley hums in response, as if he had just remembered Cas saying that.

"Yeah, mooseling, I suppose you're right." I start to make the waffles before responding.

"Are you ever going to come up with my own animal or will I be 'mooseling' forever?"

"Give it time." Crowley walks out without another word. I sigh. Being alone again reminds me of my feelings about Sam and Dean having to leave. Once all the waffles are piled onto a plate, I slip from the room to go change into pajamas. They don't need to know I was up all night.

"Ava!" Cas shouts, "your phone is buzzing." I hurry to the library, steal it back from him with a muttered thanks, and then head to my room to take a dose of meds. After that, I return to the kitchen and start packing the food into different containers. Sam and Dean mosey in when I'm about halfway done.

"What is all this?" Dean grumbles, voice still thick from sleep.

"Food for your trip. I cook when I'm nervous, so…" Sam helps me load the rest of it up, telling me how I didn't have to do it and how they really appreciate it while Dean stuffs his face with waffles and coffee.

"Thanks." Chewed waffle spews everywhere.

"Ewww," I squeal, pretending to be disgusted. As soon as everyone is fed, I detail everything I packed for them; what they should eat in the first two days, what will last for about a week, what needs to be warmed up, and so on so forth.

"Did you even sleep?" Sam jokes, but seeing the look on my face, he quickly changes his tune. "Sweetie, you need to sleep," he admonishes caringly.

"I know, but I was too nervous." I pick at my shirt.

"As soon as your homework is done tonight and you've eaten, I want you to go to bed. Okay?" I smile up at him.

"Okay."

"Go get dressed," Dean orders, "Sam and I'll pack the car." I nod and hurry off. At least my hair and makeup are still alright, so I don't have to redo it. Dressed and ready to roll, I meet the boys at the car, lugging my backpack and school cello.

"Hey," Dean says as we pull up to the school, "Don't worry about us. We're darn good at our job."

"We'll be back before you know it," Sam agrees.

"I know," I assure them, "I'll talk to you two tonight." As they pull away, I stare at the bumper, watching it fade into the distance.


	9. Chapter 9

"Is something wrong? You were really quiet at lunch today," Aiden asks later that day.

"My brothers are out of town. They left this morning." I rub at one of my eyebrows.

"You're concerned about them." This time, it's not a question.

"I am." My fingers trace the lines of the cello absently.

"Do you wanna hang out tonight? Or tomorrow? I'm having everyone from lunch over today, but if that doesn't work…" I smile at him.

"Let me just ask my 'babysitter,'" I chuckle. "His name is Crowley. He and Cas live with us. They're awesome." I whip out my phone and fire off the text.

_'Fine, but be home by 10, ok?'_

_'No problem.'_

"He said yes," I squeal. Finally, an opportunity to hang out with other kids. I haven't done this in a long time... Months, really.

"You're really excited," Aiden comments, chuckling.

"Well, yeah. I didn't have many friends at my old school, so I didn't get to hang out with people a lot."

"They missed out," he declares. "If you want to hang out more often, every Tuesday and Thursday we study at each other's houses. There's a rotation, so if you want in, you'd have to agree to host every once in awhile, but it's a ton of fun."

"I'll clear that with Sam and Dean when they get back, but it sounds awesome," I pause for a moment. "Do you think everyone would want to hang at my house sometime over the weekend?"

"Probably. We're always looking for an excuse to do something. We could have a Doctor Who marathon." Aiden grins cheekily at me.

"Of course," I roll my eyes, "Why not?" He laughs, then decides it's time to get back to business. We finished learning scales last week and now I get to play actual songs. He even thinks that I'll be able to go back and learn with the class soon. As much as I love learning from him, I can't wait to join the class.

The rest of the period passes quickly and before I know it, the bell is ringing. Ugh. Now I've gotta go take the bus.

"Ready to go?" Aiden asks. "I can give you a lift to my house since your brothers aren't here to drive you."

"Really? That'd be awesome," I agree, much relieved. I hated taking the bus at my old school and am sure I'd dislike it just as much here.

"Yeah, I know how terrible the bus is," Aiden grumbles, "some of those kids are loons."

"More like all of them are," I correct him, earning a laugh.

"That's true, I just try to give at least one or two of them the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah… I don't." We both laugh and walk out to his car. Misty and Jenna are waiting there for us.

"Ooh! You're coming too?" Misty exclaims.

"Yay!" Jenna cheers, doing a little fist bump. "We kinda thought you were mad at us for something, but I'm glad to see you aren't." Aiden rolls his eyes and responds, "You knew she wasn't mad. You're just hoping she'll dish."

"I will later," I assure them with a chuckle. We load everything into the trunk and with four thuds, hop in the car. Shortly, drivers next to us are signaling for us to turn the music down, but we leave it up, to busy singing along at the top of our lungs to notice them. Soon enough, we're at Aiden's house.

"Hey, Mrs. Marks," Misty and Jenna shout up the stairs.

"Hello, girls. Aiden, there's snacks in the fridge for everyone." As I look around, a silvery glimmer continually flares in the corner of my eye. Someone in the house is a witch and it's not Aiden. They're not practicing black magic, only protection and mental focus spells. I suppose that's why Aiden says he never has trouble studying.

"Do you mind if I go up and introduce myself?" Even though I'm not a hunter, I'd still like to know who the witch is. Aiden gestures for me to go ahead, mouth already full. I trudge up the two flights, following my intuition to the right room.

"And who are you?" Mrs. Marks asks in a pleasant voice.

"My name is Ava. I'm the new kid at Kripke High. Just wanted to introduce myself." A quiet silver outline surrounds her, indicating that she is the witch.

"I'm Mrs. Marks, it's nice to meet you. Go ahead and make yourself at home," she implores, before adding, "Sweetie, can I ask an odd question?" At my nod, she asks, "Are you at all psychic?"

"I am. You're a witch, correct?" She nods.

"How did you know that?"

"I can see it around you. I'm not a normal psychic; I can see a supernatural creature's true face or something that symbolizes what they are. Like how your 'good' magic shines around you." I shrug and, when she doesn't respond, head back to hang with my friends. Everyone from lunch is here now and I dive straight into the conversation about one of our hellish teachers. Of course a homework/study group wouldn't actually do work. Makes a ton of sense, right?

After we eat dinner, Aiden shoos everyone politely from the house, after Misty reassures him a hundred times that her mom is fine with driving me home.

"So, Ava," her mom asks, "where do you live?"

"You know the old power plant by the river? My house is between them." She gives me a confused glance in the mirror. "It's more like a bunker. I'll tell you where to stop." Soon enough, I'm home. Without the boys. Well, I suppose we're starting the pity-party again. It was bound to happen eventually.

"Thanks for the ride," I call and run in through the garage. "Crowley! Cas!" I yell, heading towards the kitchen. "Can I have some friends over Saturday?" In unison, two suffering sighs escape them and their heads pop out of their rooms.

"How many?" Crowley asks.

"And what time?" Cas adds. I almost laugh at how parent-like they sound.

"It'd be about five kids. And I suppose from just after lunchtime to around dinner, maybe a little later." I hold back an eye-roll at the doubtful looks on their faces. "They'll be home before 10." I may have practically sneered that, but neither man notices, so it's all good. Thank God. I hurry off to my room before squealing.  _I get to have friends over like a normal kid!_


	10. Chapter 10

"So, I got to see where Ava lives last night," Misty gossips at lunch the next day, "and it is literally the coolest. It's a bunker! Underground!"

"And you haven't even seen the inside yet," I chuckle, "It gets better."

"Is that possible?" she gasps.

"Yes, yes, it is. Wanna come over and see? I got permission to have everyone over tomorrow afternoon. You're all invited," I smile at everyone.

"Heck, yes!" Jenna crows, a sentiment echoed by everyone else at the table.

"Great! One o'clock sound good to everyone? I'll put up signs so you know where to go," I giggle.

"Hah," Misty snorts. "Even with the signs, they won't be able to find it. How about I drive everyone over?" Our plans are settled shortly and we all disappear to go to our next class.

**Time Jump: Saturday morning**

I did all the baking I wanted to get done last night, once my homework was done and I cleaned up a bit, of course. I whipped up a beautiful chocolate cake with Oreo frosting and a fruit pie and even some cannolis. Now, I need to make some food for lunch and dinner, and some snacks. I think pasta and a salad are a safe bet for dinner, as well as sandwiches and fruit for lunch. I make some burger meat as well, but don't cook it just yet. I'll save that for dinner and burgers are always better fresh. For snacks, I have hummus with chips, popcorn, assorted cheeses, and grapes. As soon as everything is made, I change into a cute pair of skinny jeans, a pinkish plaid button-down, and a pair of socks. I split my hair into two braids and do my makeup quickly. It's almost one. They'll be here soon and I should probably be outside to help them find the door. I shove my feet into a pair of slippers and dart to the front door, unlocking it before I go outside. The bunker looks more impressive from that entrance.

Misty pulls up about three minutes later, everyone in tow.

"Where do you want me to park?" She shouts from an unrolled window.

"Wherever you like. This whole road is our driveway," I call back. She throws the van into park and the van unloads.

"This is awesome."

"So cool."

"I can't believe you live here."

"Man, it really is a bunker."

"I told you it was sweet." The comments just keep coming. Eventually I cut them off.

"Come on, guys, it's cold out. Let's head in." I turn away and start to open the main door.

"Wait- didn't you go in through a different door last time?" Misty's words give me pause. Do I want to take them in through the front door or the garage? Mm, let's just stick with this.

"I did, but that was the garage. This is the front door. Now come on." I heave the door open and let them through. "Down the stairs with you. Want the grand tour?"

"Yes!" They cry in unison, making everyone laugh. So I lead the way on a weaving trail through the house, hitting all the biggest hotspots: kitchen, my room, garage, bathroom. All the cars in the garage create a ruckus.

"Is one of them yours?'

"Well, I want this one, but it needs a paint job and tune-up first. Eventually," I tell them, pointing to a cool, vintage car before continuing on.

"Man," Eric comments. "The only thing that could make this place cooler would be a dungeon." I start to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

"You don't!" Aiden whines. "That's just not fair." I just flick my wrist at them and walk away, headed for the dungeon. When I reach the bookcases, I turn back to them.

"This thing is fully stocked. Touch anything at your own risk. Do not sue if you manage to maim yourself." I stare Jack down. He's most likely to do something stupid.

"My hands will remain in my pockets the entire time," he vows. I just purse my lips, then spin back and open the dungeon.

"It's got a secret entrance, too? Seriously? This is cooler than the batcave. Except, well, the batcave has Batman," Jenna cries, causing raucous laughter.

"Believe me," I choke out, "I know." With that, we start chowing down on food and binge watching Doctor Who from the very beginning. Well, the beginning of the newest version. I get hundreds of compliments on my food and am told over and over that I should be a chef someday. At nine-thirty, we wrap up the marathon. Quite sadly, too. I was enjoying the show. I'll have to watch more of it. Once I've extracted a promise from Aiden to let me borrow his DVD's, I let them go home.

 _Ding._  My phone buzzes.

_Hey, Ava. Can't call right now, going in to take these bastards down. It's only three demons. Just a quick slash and we will be on our way home tomorrow. Hugs, Dean._

_Ding._  There it is again.

 _We'll be safe, I promise. I'll call you after we finish this up to let you know we're alright. Sam._  I take a long breath before responding.

 _Love you both. Thanks for letting me know. Anxiously awaiting your call. Stay safe, Ava._  Why are we all signing our names? Whatever. Maybe that's just one of their quirks. Juliet leans against my leg, finally appearing after everyone's left. I absently stroke her head. Now, it's just a waiting game.  _Please let my brothers be alright,_ I pray silently.


	11. Chapter 11

_We made it out just fine. Only bumps and scrapes, nothing severe. On our way home. Will be back late tomorrow. Love you, S &D. _My breath escapes me in a loud whoosh. I hadn't realized I was holding it, but now that I know they're alright, I can breathe again.

 _Good to know. Drive safe. Love you, see you soon. Ava._ It's weird, but even if I'm just texting them to ask what they'd like for dinner, they sign their names. Now I understand why they do. If they'd been kidnapped, the other would know something is wrong if they don't sign it. Well, they have their code words, but I haven't memorized those yet, so this is their way to make up for that.

I stumble off to bed and collapse into it, adrenaline no longer keeping me upright. Thankfully, tomorrow's only Sunday. I can sleep in.

**Time Jump: the next morning**

"Crowley! Get your hellhound away from my door. I'm trying to sleep!" My voice is hoarse and thick from sleep.

"Well, you're the one always getting up early. Give her some attention."

"You give her some attention! I need sleep!" Grumbling follows my shout, but Juliet stops attacking my door. It's six freaking o'clock in the morning! That's fine on a school day and all, but not on a weekend. No, sir-ee. I roll over, snuggle into the soft fuzziness of my blanket, and fall back asleep.

" _Yeah, sweetie," Joanie tells me, "the oven's off. Go on to bed now."_

" _Thank you," I coo in my adorable ten-year-old voice._

" _It was no problem, darlin'." I'm trying to be extra nice to Joanie. She's my tenth foster parent in three years. All because of my nightmares and the fact that I'm a 'problem child.' I don't think that's true, but the foster-parents don't agree. At least I have Mave. Still, it'd be nice to finish out the year in one school._

_I wake up screaming bloody murder. 'Not on the first night!' I think furiously. Joanie hurries into my room._

" _Hey, now. You're alright, sweetie. Just take a deep breath. Would you like a drink of water?" I nod sullenly. After drinking it, I ask if she's going to be sending me back because I can't sleep. She assures me that she would never, for any reason, send me away. With that comforting thought, I manage to sleep through the rest of the night, no nightmares. The only reason I wake up from my peaceful sleep is the beautiful scent of pancakes. No one's ever done that for me before. There's a gentle knock on my door._

" _Good morning, sunshine," Joanie calls. "Pancakes are ready. Why don't you come on down and eat? Slippers are right next to your bed." 'She got me slippers,' I marvel, sitting up and slipping them on._

 _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_  Oh, come on. Really? Before I got to eat the pancakes? I turn off the alarm, a bit upset. That's one of my favorite dreams. For some reason, I dream every night. Usually memories. Rarely is it a good one, like my first day with Joanie, but on the occasions I do have them, something great follows. I take my pill and head off to find a spot to read, not bothering to do anything with my appearance.

"Don't you need to eat something?" Crowley asks as he passes by.

"Eventually," I murmur, engrossed in the book. He huffs and walks away. Fifteen minutes later, he's back, holding a plate of food.

"Cooking isn't my forte, but you do need to eat," he grumbles, either upset or embarrassed. I'd lean towards the latter.

"Considering you haven't done it in a century or two, I would be mighty surprised if it was." I accept the plate of food and chow down, more hungry than I realized. Before I can thank him, he's gone. Off to get up to who-knows-what evil business he does.

About two hours later, just before I finish my book, The garage door opens and closes.

"Ava!" Dean shouts, "We're home!" They thunder through the house, boots clomping heavily against the tile. Doors open and close, duffels are thrown around, and containers returned to the kitchen before they reach the library.

"How'd it go?" I ask, looking up.

"They're all dead, so I'd say it was a win," Sam tells me.

"The good food didn't hurt any, either," Dean says with a grin. "What did you get up to while we were gone?" I stick my book on a shelf nearby and lean forward.

"I went to a study group on Thursday with all my friends. It was awesome. Then, yesterday, I had them over here and we hung out and watched Doctor Who."

"You had people here?" Dean sounds upset.

"All your friends know where you live! Besides, none of them are a threat. They're just people."

"They're all human?"  _Semantics,_  I think to myself, knowing all too well what he means.

"All my friends are human," I confirm, trying to hide the little misinformation.

"What are you hiding?" Dean cuts in. Darn.

"Aiden's mom is a witch. A good witch. Think Glenda. Only uses protection and focus spells. Believe me, you would've known immediately if she'd been dangerous."

"You can tell a good witch from a bad witch?" It's Sam who asks this time.

"I can see the type of magic they bring to them. If a witch practices eviler, darker magic, intended to harm or do things against nature, then they have a shadow around them. If a witch practices good, safe magic that doesn't affect anyone except to keep them safe, then she has a little silver glow. Kinda pretty, actually." My head tilts, picturing the shimmer around Mrs. Marks. It really is pretty.

"I'm trusting you on this one," Dean announces, "don't let me down." Then, in a complete subject change, he asks, "Do you have your license?"

"Yeah, I do, why?" Joanie made sure of that. Not all foster parents are as nice as she is. After living with her for six years, I ended up calling her "mom" and really feel like she was more of a mom to me than anyone else.

"You get to pick a car from the garage. We'll fix it up, paint it, make it nice, and then you can have it." My eyes go wide.

"Really?"

"Yep," he confirms with a bob of his head. "Any of them. Preferably not one of the ones from the thirties, but have your pick."

"I want that really ugly Volkswagen Beetle. I was thinking we could paint it either black or silver." I hop up from my seat and plop in a chair next to him.

"You sure?" He sounds doubtful, earning a laugh from Sam.

"Dude, she doesn't have to have the same taste in cars as we do."

"I know that! I just don't want her to dislike the one she picks."

"Dean, I love the Impala and it's a super sick car. I can appreciate awesome cars. But if I have to drive one, I want one that will feel right. And that's the Beetle."

"If you're sure," he sighs. "But you have to learn to maintain it."

"Deal." I turn to Sam. "So, since Dean is teaching me something, what do I get from you? Fighting lessons?"

"Heck no," Sam turns me down instantly.

"Please," I bat my lashes and shoot him my puppy dog look. It always works and this time is no different.

"Fine. But you're starting with guns because I don't want you actually getting close enough to a monster to fight it."

"Does this mean I can stock my trunk someday?" Sam and Dean both groan. "What? At least I'll be able to lie and say I have the knives because I'm a chef."


	12. Chapter 12

"Try it now!" Dean calls from under the hood. It's been two weeks of almost nonstop working on her, but my Beetle is just about up and running.

A low, throaty purr rumbles from her engine. Yay! I let out a squeal.

"She works!"

"That she does." Dean slams the hood. "Go get some work done with Sam. I'll clean up here and we can start prettying her up tomorrow. Shouldn't take us too long."

"Alright," I chirp happily, skipping out of the garage. "Sa-am!"

"Library," he shouts. "I take it she started today?"

"Yep, no fuss at all. We're gonna clean her up and paint her tomorrow."

"You went with silver, right?"

"Yeah, I think it's going to look amazing."

"Good," he holds up my gun, "ready?" We bought the gun about a week ago, after a few frustrating lessons with a gun I could barely hold. Mine has a bit of a smaller grip, but aside from that, is exactly the same as Sam's.

"Whenever you are." We head out to the range set up in the yard and get to work. Over the course of the next hour, we work our way through my pistol, the revolvers, and shotguns. We even do a bit with the crossbow, just because it's a projectile weapon.

"Nicely done," Sam praises, sounding impressed. I managed to hit almost every can on the first try; I only missed three. "Maybe tomorrow, we should move on to hand-to-hand."

"Not knives and stuff?"

"As much as I'd like to," he shakes his head, "you need to know how to defend yourself without a weapon first. It's all too easy to drop the knife or have it taken from you in a fight, so this is more important. I'm going to teach you a bit of each at the same time. Some of the moves will cross over."

"Smart, smart." He laughs.

"Always. Do you think dinner's ready yet?"

"Probably. Let's go check." I made some stew earlier and left it to simmer while I worked with the boys. I really hope it's done.

Gurgle gurgle. And I suppose both Sam and my stomachs do too. We snicker at ourselves as we head to the kitchen.

**Time Jump: the next afternoon**

"School went well?" Dean asks as we carefully apply the paint.

"Yep. My grades are inching their way back up. They should be back to A's by the end of the semester, with a ton of hard work."

"What are they at now?"

"The D's are back to solid B's and the C's are already at low A's. I talked to my teachers and they let me turn in the late homework, which really helped."

"You got to redo a few quizzes too, right?"

"Yep, but only in the classes I had D's in."

"Good. I'm proud of you for fixing this."

"I am too." We smile at each other.

"So you started hand-to-hand today."

"Uh-huh. We're doing to do the basics of that, then a little weapons training."

"You're doing both?"

"He thought I should learn them at the same time so I could see the application of some of the stuff he's teaching me."

"Smart, smart."

"That's what I said!" I giggle.

"Alright, I think we're done here. That's the primer. I have to say, this goes a ton faster with two people."

"I'm sure. I couldn't imagine doing this alone." After waiting a little bit for the primer to dry, during which Dean tells me about their childhood, we sand the car down and move on to the color. "I see why you had me work with Sam first."

"Doing the paint job takes a while, but it's worth it, especially when you do it right." We do two more full rounds of paint, then sand it down, and pack up for the night. It's almost 11 at night and while the boys can function on only four hours of sleep, I can't. Before going to bed, however, I do a bit more work on my checklist for my trunk. I know the boys don't want me to be involved directly with hunting, but I want to be able to help, and having a stocked car is part of that. So far, the list I've come up with is salt, gasoline, holy water, dead man's blood, multiple machetes, silver knives, gold knives, salt rounds, multiple shotguns, multiple revolvers and pistols, silver bullets, a crossbow, bolts for the crossbow, daggers (including ceremonial), battle axe, pocket knife, star knife, crucifix, anti-possession charms, batons, flashlights, batteries, flare guns, flares, lockpick kit, rope, brass knuckles, wooden mallet, wooden stakes, flasks/bottles, tasers, iron bullets, and a duffel. Okay, so I didn't come up with all that on my own, I looked through the trunk of the Impala and wrote everything down.

On the upside, I've got everything except my own crossbow, battle axe, flare gun, taser, and dead man's blood. I've been able to find plenty of the rest of it just lying around. I even found a knife sharpening kit to add.

On the downside, I still have yet to find a way to fit everything into the trunk. Oh, did I mention that on this model Beetle, the hood is where the trunk should be and the trunk is in the front? Well, it is. And it's got a spare tire in it. So basically, I've got no clue how to work this.

Maybe I should just ask Sam and Dean for help designing it. I mean, what could it hurt? Even if they say no, I could always find a way on my own. Not a bad idea. Setting aside the list, I pick up my brand new journal. Made of real leather engraved with "Winchester" on the front, this thing was horrifyingly expensive. But I had it made anyway. It's almost like a three ring binder. I got little folders that go in tabs for papers that don't fit in the rings and it comes with pockets in both the front and back. I have address book pages, lined paper, and even blank pages for drawing. I've decided that as soon as I fill my Beetle's trunk, I'll start writing in it. After all, once I've got a car loaded with weapons, the ability to fight to some degree, and a scary amount of knowledge on how to kill monsters, I'm basically a hunter. I've already got the knowledge, I can shoot, I'm learning to fight, and I already wear plaid all the damn time.


	13. Chapter 13

Friday, Sam comes to pick me up alone. I'm a little upset with them. I asked about my trunk and all they said was "we'll see." If they'd actually said no, I'd be fine, but they haven't given me a straight answer yet and it's been three days. Aside from that, my car, which I've decided to call Luna, is entirely ready to drive.

As soon as we get home, I announce that I'm going to do homework and hurry to my room.

My pile… all the things I'd collected for my trunk… they're all gone, all except the journal.

"Sam! Dean!" I shout, storming through the bunker to find them. "Did you take stuff out of my room?"

"I did," Dean says, coming in from the garage. "Before you get mad, though, follow me." He walks away, back to the garage, ignoring everything I say as Sam and I trail along behind him. He moves straight for Luna, still not saying a word. In a moment, the trunk is open, revealing two red containers of gasoline and two large bags of salt, pressed tight against either side of the trunk. He depresses a small latch that hadn't been there before and the bottom clicks up just enough for his fingers to fit underneath. He presses it up to reveal the hidden compartment for all my gear.

"Oh, my gosh!" I screech. "I love you! I hate you for keeping this from me, but I love you!" I lean forward, taking it all in. The way they organized it, with the guns, machetes, and crossbow latched to the bottom and small knives and ammo clipped to the moving part is genius. Around the edge is a ring of bottles and my duffle. Unlike their car, it's clean and easy to find what you need. The guns are on the left, organized by side with their ammo directly above them. The crossbow is in the center, the bolts strapped down next to it. The machetes are on the right with the knives above them and the crossbow. The boys even took the time to get me what I didn't have; the taser, flare gun, and battle axe are all there, too, incorporated into the section they seem most like.

"You like it?" Sam asks from behind me.

"I love it." Dean is leaning against the side, smirking and eyes smiling. "Chick flick moment," I cry and fling myself at him, catching him in a hug before he can run. "You, too." I chase after Sam, jumping onto his back as he pretends to run away.

"One more surprise, okay?" he questions over his shoulder. I nod and he carries me to the library. "Since you're not working with Dean on the car anymore, I want you to donate one hour a day to studying lore. I've got a couple books for you to start with. When you finish with that hour, you can look for cases. You find any ghost cases, you can come with us."

"Really? Really, really?" Dream come true.

"Yes, really," Dean chuckles. "I know you studied that notebook and it tells you a ton, but there's still a lot you don't know. Dad didn't include everything he hunted in there."

"It didn't have many things in it; just ghosts, vampires, werewolves, shifters and the likes. The common stuff."

"Right. And it's the uncommon stuff we want you to study." Sam takes a seat across from me, pushing a brand new MacBook Air towards me. "Your hour starts now. Then you can look for cases for a little bit, then dinner, then homework, then you train with us, sound good?"

"Sounds good," I agree. I'm practically a real hunter now! All I need is a few cases under my belt. Living with the boys, seeing them get to go and help people, it definitely gave me the bug. I want to do the same and now here's my chance. I dig into the books, reading about Knights of Hell. When I'm halfway into my time, Crowley wanders in.

"Whatcha reading, mooseling?"

"Lore. Sam and Dean want me to study so I can hunt with them."

"They showed you the car, then?"

"You knew about that?" I cry. What, did Cas know, too? That'd make me the only one left out of this little circle.

"Yeah, mooseling, I knew. I'm here all day, after all."

"Right," I grumble.

"Oh, Knights of Hell, nasty buggers." I snicker at him saying 'buggers,' but compose myself when he glares. "Anyway, they're all dead now. Cain killed the last one about a year ago."

"Then why am I reading about it?" Why read about something I'm never going to have to deal with?

"Probably something to do with… well, actually, I don't know." He glances over the stack of books. "Now this one, here, that you should read."

"Leviathons? Why that one?"

"They come from Purgatory. Cas let them out inadvertently. They tried to take over the world. Supposedly, there's no way to kill them."

"There's a way to kill everything," I sigh, "if you can find its weakness." I set aside my book, digging into the new, more relatable one. A timer dings on the laptop a short while later, letting me know that my hour is up. I flip it open and see that Sam has left me notes on how they search for cases. Do they really just read as many newspapers as they can? From all across the country?

"Oh, boys," I whisper, opening up a command prompt window and setting it to search for specific criteria. My last school had a required science class, but we got to choose what we took, so I did computer sciences, which included how to do advanced searches over all the search engines available. It'll take about a half-hour to run, but it'll work. Eventually, I'll set it to run multiple searches on a loop, scanning for bloody deaths or crimes police cannot solve or unusual medical deaths in the federal and police databases.

"Ava, dinner's ready!" Dean hollers.

"We cooked for a change!"

"Man, I did all the work and you know it."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Not."

"Too."

"What are you, five?" I shake my head, grab the burger nearest me, and chow down while they continue to argue over who did more work.


	14. Chapter 14

"Remember the rules?" Dean asks, waving his shotgun around.

"Yes, Dean. You've told me a hundred times," I whine.

"Stop waving that thing," Sam admonishes, "and she's right, you have."

"I just want her to be safe."

"She's got more training than we did on our first hunt."

"When she says them one more time, I'll be fine."

"I stay near you or Sam, shoot first, questions later, and get in a salt circle if I see anything." I stop there, not wanting to acknowledge the last one, but he crooks an eyebrow, so I continue, "if you tell me to get back to the car, I leave."

"Good," Dean affirms. "Let's go. Stay close " Sam and I both groan at his instruction.

"She's got it, Dean. Let's just go." He hoists his shotgun and stalks inside. I chuckle and follow hot on his heels. Behind me, Dean is complaining about something, but we both ignore him and go to take care of the ghost. Everything seems normal inside the house for a few minutes, but then the lights flash.

"Ava," Dean hisses, "get over here."

"I'm fine," I call back. "Really."

"Just get over here." I roll my eyes and do as he asks. I hear a creak off to our left and turn towards it. Dean must not've heard it because he doesn't move. I walk over, following a series of creaks. "Can you really not hear that? It's so loud."

"Have you ever seen a ghost before?" Sam calls, trailing after me. I slip into the hall and look both ways before responding that I had, once while I was in a hospital.

"Could it be that you can hear them?"

"I wasn't able to before, even when she tried to communicate with me," I murmur following the moving shuffling. "Then again, I used to only see flashes of the monster's real face, but now I see a static image unless I choose to ignore it. I wouldn't be too surprised if this was another change."

"So you can lead us to it," Dean realizes suddenly, "just by tracking the sounds."

"That's the theory," I huff, "now hush, I'm trying to listen." The problem with following a ghost is that the veil is different, spatially. They may not move in the veil, but they'll move from one room or floor to another here. So when I decide which way to go, it could appear behind me. Some ghosts can somewhat control that, as far as I know, and if this one can, then this will be a lot more difficult than anticipated.

"There it is," I whisper, catching a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye. I whip around toward it, raising my gun.

"Please," something whispers. "I mean no harm. I don't know what's happening."

"Would you come here, where I can see you?" A young girl appears, drifting towards me.

"You're dead."

"Yes," she breathes with a nod.

"Then why did you say you don't know what's happening?"

"I don't know why you brought guns," a cruel smile appears on her young face. "They won't help you." She rockets forward and I fire a round into her.

"Guess you've never faced a hunter then," I grumble.

"Wanna fill us in?"

"It's a little girl. She's trying to kill us. Be ready."

"What do you mean, little girl? I thought it was the guy," Dean hisses, "he killed her, then was shot by an officer. That's the rumor, anyway. No names and no police record of that happening."

"Your information is wrong," a man's voice reaches my ears, muffled. "She was a killer in life and is now one in death. I try to stop her. And there is no police report because the officer shot an unarmed man and no one wanted him to lose his job.""

"I understand. What is her name?" Then, as an afterthought, "and hers? We will send you both to your respective afterlife."

"You won't find our bodies in any graveyard. I am buried in the backyard, under the shed. She was cremated." I groan.

"What?" Sam asks, sounding panicked.

"She was cremated, he's buried in the backyard."

"Damn it," Dean swears. "We gotta figure out what she's attached to."

"The knife. She used to kill with a knife."

"Do you know where the knife is?"

"Her old bedroom. Upstairs, third door on the left to your right. Good luck getting in. I'll try to keep her occupied." He disappears into a different part of the veil.

"Follow me," I call, running for the stairs. Up, turn right, on the left, third door. I rattle the knob, shoving hard against it. "One of you knock this thing down." Sam jumps forward and kicks it in. Guess she isn't trying to keep it shut; she only locked it. Inside, dust assaults us, the room having been sealed for over a hundred years. We look through everything; closets, drawers, under the bed, nightstand, inside shoes. Then it dawns on me.

"She's a child," I gasp, "so she'd keep things important to her under her pillow." I rip them off the bed and draw out a long, ivory handled knife. "Found it."

"We should go outside to burn it." Dean snatches it from my hands and makes a break for it. Somehow, he makes it outside before the ghost notices that he has the knife. Sam and I, however, aren't so lucky. She pops up in front of is just before we get to the door.

"Leaving before we could play? That's rude," she coos before throwing Sam and I across the room. Sam drops his gun, but I manage to keep ahold of mine. As she drifts towards my brother, I lift it and fire another salt round. Unfortunately, now I have to reload, and my extra rounds are across the room. I almost make it, but she reappears before I can.

"Sam!" I scream. He finally gets his fingers on his gun and fires. Fast as he can, he throws more rounds to me and reloads his own gun.

"Come over here. Stay close."

"No arguments there," I mutter, scurrying to his side. The ghost pops back up, yet again.

"C'mon. What's taking him so long?"

"Did you go in my room?" She shrieks. "Did you take my knife?" Sam and I look at each other, panicked. She's mad, more mad than a normal vengeful spirit. "Thieves!" The windows rattle, furniture splinters, and the lights explode. She starts to rush us, but then screams, fire starting from inside her.

"Took him long enough," I grumble, gasping for breath. Sam chokes out a laugh, agreeing with me.

"You stopped her," the other ghost comments, appearing before us. "Good. Now send me off, too." He disappears before we can comment and we both groan, knowing we've got to dig up a grave.


	15. Chapter 15

"So, mooseling," Crowley saunters into the while I'm working on dinner. "How was the first hunt?"

"It went well." I roll out another lasagne noodle. "We discovered I can hear spirits as well as see them."

"And that's a good thing?" His face, when I glance up, is incredulous.

"Yes, Crowley, that's a good thing." I can't help but laugh at his expression. "It means I can track them and they can't sneak up on me."

"Ah. I can see that would be an advantage. Congratulations."

"Thanks." I drop the last noodles onto the lasagne and finish it up before sliding it into the oven. "Are you going to join us tonight?"

"Your brothers are here," he says, as if that's an answer.

"Doesn't mean you can't eat with us."

"True, but I do have a reputation to uphold. Can't have those two thinking the King of Hell's gone soft."

"Fair enough," I agree. I hadn't thought about how they might react if he ate with us. It was really sweet of him to eat dinner with me every day while the boys were gone.

My laptop dings at me. I lean over it, quickly taking in the information it's turned up.

"Sam! Dean! You've got a case," I shout, stalking into the hall.

"Really?" Dean's head pops out of his room like a cartoon character.

"Yep. I think it's a Djinn. Come see." Sam appears in the kitchen just as Dean settles in with the laptop.

"What's happening?"

"Case," Dean grunts. "Djinn."

"Ooh," Sam leans over his shoulder, "tell me about it."

"Dude, I just started reading, go away. Ava found it, ask her." Dean shoves Sam away.

"You found it?" Sam points at me.

"Well, the computer did, but yes."

"The computer did it?"

"Computers can do that?" Dean asks, looking up, bewildered.

"Read," Sam tells him.

"I took a computer science class last year. One of the assignments was to create a program that would search for certain criteria in certain areas." The timer goes off and I pull out our meal. "So I already had the program designed, I just needed to put it on the laptop and enter criteria. It searches newspapers, looking for oddly high death rates, numbers of missing people, and odd deaths."

"We should introduce you to Charlie," Sam declares.

"Who's Charlie?"

"She's a hacker. Total computer genius. You'd like her," Sam describes.

"The one who went to Oz?"

"She's back. It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it sometime. For now, tell me about the case." So I do, explaining the bodies and missing persons, telling him everything I knew.

"Nicely done," Sam praises me. I preen a bit, but then he continues and my heart falls. "We'll head out just as soon as we've dropped you off at school."

"I can't come with?"

"Not this time, ok? If it weren't a djinn, I'd say maybe, but I don't want to risk you getting hurt." His big eyes are almost sad, like he really wishes I could, but I can see in his face that he doesn't think I'm ready.

"I understand," I tell him. And I really do. The look in his eyes says everything I need to know. So I move on, knowing I'll get a chance to go when I am ready.

"Is that lasagne?" Dean asks, sniffing the air.

"Yeah, it'll be ready to eat in a few minutes. Finish reading." He huffs, but goes back to work.

Soon enough, dinner is eaten and the boys are off packing. I'm not as nervous this time, but I still stay up making meals for them. They raved for a week over not having to eat food from a gas station.

The next morning, we pack up the car, chatting about things that are happening at school, including my first music concert. I'll be playing a solo called Minuet by Mozart and a duet with Aiden called Variations on Twinkle. I don't remember who that one is by, but I find it to be a pretty tricky song because it's longer and more technical. And I have to stay in time with Aiden.

"We'll try to be back in time for that. Heck, we'll leave the case and go back if we have to," Dean promises.

"No, you won't," I argue. "You will stay and save lives. That's more important. I'll make Crowley come."

"And Cas. They can record it for us," Sam agrees. "You know she's right. We never leave a case for anything and we can't change that now. It would risk innocent lives."

"Do you two always have to be so logical?" Dean whines, holding his place as the most emotional family member.

"Yes," Sam and I chorus. He huffs and turns his Metallica up. I snicker in the back seat; they're so predictable it's comforting.

"It's going to be a two day drive and I'd estimate that we'll be there around a week, so we'll see you in about ten days," Sam tells me, turning in his seat.

"Miss you, Ava," Dean grunts, adding "love you," after a moment's pause.

"Love you, miss you," I lean across the seat and give them each a peck on the cheek. "Text me, keep me updated," I order and hop out of the car.

"Bye," Sam calls and they drive off. I watch as they pull into the street and disappear.

"They're going on another trip?" Jenna appears at my elbow.

"Yeah," I turn to her. "Its gonna be a long ten days." We head inside as the bell rings.

"We should have a sleepover," she suggests, "you, me, and Misty. My parents are going out of town for the weekend. Why not then?"

"I'll check with my 'babysitter,' but that sounds like a ton of fun." I haven't had nightmares since I came to an understanding with my brothers, so I feel safe agreeing to go. Yeah, I'm not sure about not having an adult there, but I trust my friends.


	16. Chapter 16

"I can't believe you're leaving us," Crowley whines.

"It's two nights, Crowley. You'll live. Just do whatever you do while I'm at school." I throw some clothes, DVD's, make-up, and snack foods into a bag and I'm ready to go. My hand curls around my car keys.

"Alright, Crowley, out of the doorway, I gotta go." I'm running late because the brownies I made were too hot to cut. He grumbles but moves and I run to the Beetle. Soon enough, I am pulling up outside Jenna's house.

Ding-dong. Jeeze, her doorbell is loud.

"Hey! We were just about to call." Misty opens the door. "Come on in."

"Sorry I'm late," I slip my shoes off, "the brownies were slow to bake."

"You made brownies? Totally forgiven, in that case," Jenna jokes. "But in all seriousness, share." We laugh and head to the kitchen, where I set out all the sweets I made, including brownies, cookies, and different types of fudge. Within the next five minutes, all the food in the house is spread out around the couch and the first movie is on.

While we're awake, the time flies by. I manage to sneak my meds when they're not looking. At about noon on Saturday, after an all-nighter, we pass out.

Dreams assault me, memories of my stepfather, John, and other foster parents surfacing. Of all the nights to dream of them, it had to be today.

I wake with a start. As much as they had rattled me, the dreams slip away within minutes of waking up. I nibble at a few pieces of fudge and brownie, the familiar flavors on my tongue helping to bring me back from my nervous state before Jenna and Misty wake up. Knowing I need to busy myself because they'll likely sleep for a while longer, I gather up some ingredients and tiptoe to the kitchen.

Cinnamon rolls slide into the oven about a half hour later. Bacon hisses in a pan while I decide to make scrambled eggs instead of omelets. Once the eggs are whipped up with peppers, mushroom, spinach, sausage, and copious amounts of cheese, I start on some chocolate chip pancakes. As soon as that's done, I pull out the steel-cut oats I found and make a maple syrup, brown sugar, cinnamon oatmeal loaded with fruit. Just as I get some sausage into the pan, Misty and Jenna walk in, bleary eyed and hungry, munching on cookies.

"Did you really make all this?" Jenna asks, dropping the cookie in favor of a cinnamon roll. Misty piles up some pancakes and practically inhales them.

"I did. I've been up for almost two and a half hours." The sausage finishes up and I set it on the bacon plate. "What do you guys want to do?"

"We should have a Lord of the Rings marathon," Misty votes. Jenna and I agree without hesitation and the food is promptly carried back to the TV room. It's 7:00 when we start the marathon and manage to make it all the way through before falling asleep. This time, the dreams aren't just memories; they're nightmares.

"Ava!" Someone shouts over me, a girl's voice. Misty, I recall dimly. Who's screaming? "Ava, wake up!" my eyes open, the trees from my nightmare fading.

"Move," I croak, throat sore from yelling so loudly. I guess it was me who was screaming. Misty and Jenna shift away, letting me get up. I move to the window and look out at the street.

"A U-haul. A fucking U-haul," I mutter. The curtains flutter shut while I rub my eyes. I can't believe this happened. I know trucks will set me off, but they've never induced nightmares before.

"Ava," Jenna asks softly, "what happened to make you scream like that?" I look up at her silently and sit on the ground, hugging my knees.

"I can't talk about it yet," I whisper, my words stilted and broken, "it's too close to the nightmare. If I do, I'll have more. I'll tell you about it when I can. But you can't tell anyone."

"No, never," Jenna agrees.

"We promise, when you're ready." Misty gently rubs my back.

"Misty, you know most of my story. You can tell Jenna what you know." I bury my head in my knees and wait for her to start. She continues to run a hand over my back and Jenna picks up one of my hands to hold.

"It's a bad story, Jenna," Misty finally starts. "It's a wonder she doesn't have nightmares every night. Her dad left her mom before she even knew she was pregnant. After Ava was born, her mom started drinking a ton. She'd gotten laid off and they couldn't afford to move from their small town to get her a new job. When Ava was five, her mom got a new boyfriend and well, they didn't treat Ava well. Kinda just acted like she wasn't real. At seven, she was misdiagnosed with schizophrenia and the newlyweds turned from neglect to abuse. They got hooked on some nasty drugs and racked up a ton of enemies, who killed them both when Ava was nine. It took the state a full year to find Ava's dad. She was bounced through five foster homes in that time because none wanted to handle her 'disability.' Then he decided to do the same thing and ditched her on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere. She didn't say much about that, just that it took three days for authorities to get to her. After that, she was put in a group home for two months. One month in, it was discovered that the doctor who diagnosed her had been over-diagnosing patients to get more money, so Ava was re-tested and came up clean. She was sent to four other foster homes, none of which could handle her nightmares and sent her back in the first week every time. Finally, three months before her 11th birthday, a woman named Joanie took her in. She lived there until now, when the house burned down and Joanie didn't make it out. The state found her brothers and sent her to them and now here she is."

"For someone to scream like that, I'm guessing she left out the worst details." Jenna sounds pained.

"Yeah, I think she did. C'mon, let's get her packed up and take her home. It'll probably help to get her on familiar ground." Jenna gathers my things while Misty walks me to my car. She settles me in the front seat and claims the driver's spot. Jenna puts my bag in her car and drives along behind us. When we finally get there, Misty knocks on the door.

"Who are you?" Cas glares at her.

"Ava's friend. We're just bringing her home." Jenna hands him my bag then walks back to me.

"Come on, sweetie, let's get you to your room."

"I can take her," Crowley says, appearing behind CA's. He moves forward and takes my arm, leading me gently through the bunker. Cas has Misty pull Luna into toe garage and says something to them before they leave.

"What happened, Tiger?"

"Tiger?" I ask, curling up into my bodypillow.

"You're strong. Now answer the question." Cas appears in the doorway.

"Nightmare," I whisper. "Not gonna talk about it, but I'll need you to call me out of school for a few days."

"Why?" Cas demands.

"I need to go see my doctor." Cas nods.

"Okay," he agrees, "but I'm going to call Dean first." He turns to leave, but I stop him.

"Call him here. He might want to speak to me." Cas dials and speaks quietly with Dean for a minute before passing me the phone.

"I'm going to call the school and tell them you'll be out all week, okay?" I agree with him and he continues. "Cas will drive you to the doctor tomorrow and I'll meet you there. Sam is going to finish the job with another hunter, then come. Try to get some sleep, don't forget your meds, and remember we love you."

"I love you, too," I say softly, wincing at my throat. I hand the phone back to Cas.

"Do you want me to heal your throat?"

"No, the doctor needs to see it," I pause, "but if you knock someone out, do they dream?"

"No, would you like me to?" I nod and lay down. He touches my temple gently and I'm asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, you screamed until your throat bled," Dr. Atkins sighs, lowering the light. I nod, having known this. "How many times did you say this happened?"

"Four, once at a friend's house and three on the drive over," Dean answers. While CA's was driving me to the motel, I had two flashbacks because of other trucks on the highway. So he knocked me out. I had another on the way over to the office.

A nurse knocks on the door and peeks in, "Doctor, there's a Sam Winchester requesting to see Ava."

"He's our brother," I whisper, trying not to strain my throat. "Let him in."

Sam bursts through the door and moves straight to me.

"Ava, are you okay?" He looks me over, checking me for visible injury.

"She killed her throat, man," Dean tells him. "I have never heard anyone scream like that." His voice is weak with horror and shock.

"Now, normally I wouldn't do this, but I'm going to give you a copy of the report that's in her file," Dr. Atkins says, rifling through the papers. "I'd usually say that you should ask her, but I don't want to risk her health." He hands them the packet and turns to me, "you know the drill, on your feet." I stand with a sigh. I'm being admitted again. This happened multiple times while I was with Joanie. Dr. Atkins knows that once the flashbacks start, they won't stop for a little while and will only get worse.

"I'll give you a stronger dose of the usual pill for the first three days, then have them wean you back off it. I'll prescribe it for when you go home, but you're only to use it in extreme cases," he clicks his tongue, "I'm also going to prescribe an anti-anxiety medication. I think you would benefit from it. The same way we did when you got your antidepressants, we'll work on your schedule until it's practically perfect."

"Are you having her admitted?" Sam gasps, seeming terrified.

"Sam, is it?" The doctor sighs. "Your sister has done this multiple times. If we don't, she's only going to get worse. Once she's out of the woods, we'll let you take her home. I recommend you read the packet. You will be allowed to see her before intake and visit her once a day."

"You're sure this will work?" Dean leans forward, ignoring the packet in his hand.

"I'm positive." I walk over to my brother and take his hand, spelling out letters on his hand.

"Trust him? Is that what you spelled?" I nod and Dean continues, "I will, but only because you do." I smile and walk back to the doc.

'Who is in?' I spell on his palm.

"The typical orderlies and nurses, your favorite doctor, and a bunch of your friends." My grin widens. These are the only friends I had when I lived with Joanie.

"You have friends in there?" Dean sounds awed.

"The frequent fliers. The ones who go in and out and are often there at the same time. Most of them are in three or four times a year, including Ava." He looks back to me, "Off you go, then." I slip out the door after hugging my boys and go to the intake area. Soon, I'm being assigned a room and settling in. I've been given a pad of paper and a pen. There's a knock at the door.

"Ava! I heard you were back," a huge, African American football player opens the door.

"Jacks," I mouth at him.

"Break your throat again?" I nod petulantly. "You ever gonna tell me why you scream like that?"

'You tell me your story, I'll tell you mine,' I write on the paper.

"You know why I'm in here, darlin'. Anger issues."

'Just as you know that I'm in here because of flashbacks.' Jacks rolls his eyes at me.

"Fine, I'll tell you." And he does- the story of a boy beaten by his father until a quick temper was the only thing keeping him alive. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Ava. I just keep gettin' sent in here because anger management classes out there aren't workin' for me. Nothin' does."

'You'll get there.' He could be a hunter. A quick temper and good reflexes would keep him alive for a long while in our world.

"Now you tell me," he demands. I tap the pen against the paper and tilt my head, trying to decide what the best thing to say is. Finally, I write the bare bones of my story: that my dad left, I was schizophrenic, abused, they died, I was put with fosters, left by my dad on the side of the road, cleared of my diagnosis, put with Joanie and now my brothers.

"Oh, darlin'," he coos, pulling me into a hug. This is why I love Jacks; he always knows just what to say or do to make me feel better. "Don't think I don't know there's still somethin' you're not tellin' me."

'It isn't a fun time being a 10 year old girl on the side of a highway.'

"Shit, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make anythin' worse."

'You didn't.'

"Good. Wanna go raid the chocolate stash?" I jump up and hop up and down, clapping my hands like a little girl. "Up you go, then." I climb on Jacks' back and he stalks out to common area.

"Ava!" A few people shout. I wave to them.

"Broken voice," Jacks calls to them and continues into the corner where the staff stashes their candy. I move up to his shoulders and push up the ceiling tile. A bag of chocolate and a bag of fruity candy sit on the next tile.

"Chocolate or fruity?" I hiss, trying to keep my voice from hurting.

"Just grab both." So I do and we hurry back to my room, the candy hidden between my stomach and his back. We pick out a few pieces to eat each and hide the rest of the bag in my ceiling. The staff knows that someone knows where they hide the candy, they just don't know it's us. Which is odd because we're not exactly trying to hide it.

"How long are you here for?"

'A week.'

"Ah, so you're leavin' the day after me. I've been here two days."

'8 days then. Don't you love that our docs tell us how long we're in for?'

"Absolutely. And unless we get worse, they're always right." There's a knock on the door.

"Ava? You have visitors," the orderly informs me.

"I'll take you," Jacks says and lifts me onto his back. Instead of just walking, he dances over to the visiting area. I try to laugh silently while he sings in time to his footsteps.

"Ava?" I hear Sam's voice and point him out. My ride sets me down in front of my brothers.

"So, the doc told us you'll be in here for about a week." I bob my head 'yes.' Dean continues, "we'll visit you every day, ok?" I smile and agree again.

"Who's your friend?" Sam asks, looking at Jacks cautiously. He holds out his hand.

'Jacks. Frequent like me,' I spell out.

"What for?"

'Temper.'

"What did she say?" Dean pokes Sam.

"The kid's name is Jacks, he's in here pretty often, and has temper problems." Sam gives Dean a look, one I can't understand.

"Why not just go to classes?"

'Didn't work," I tell them with a shrug. Not to mention that he also likely has PTSD.

"Ah, so he comes in here whenever it gets bad and they help him work it out?" I grin and nod.

'Same 4 me,' I spell.

"And this works?" Dean looks concerned that when I come out, I'll be worse. I just nod my head yes.

"She always leaves practically back to normal," Jacks reappears behind me, "this place is good for us."

"But if you have to keep coming back, is it really working?" Sam points out the obvious question.

"What happened to her, and me, when we were so young- that's not something a few therapy sessions will fix. Yes, therapy helps keep us together a while longer, but eventually, our night-terrors and the memories get the best of us," Jacks talks knowledgeably and calmly, explaining what we've had to many times before. The time between when we're in here is growing, but something tells me I will always come back.

"You two are close, then?"

"Yes, sir. We're both juniors and both want to be chefs one day," he looks down at me, "you can be my sous." I twirl my finger at him. "Or the other way around," he laughs, "though if we just opened our own food truck or something, we could both be the chef." I hold my hand out to spell something on his palm.

'I do desert, you do entrees.'

"Of course," he agrees. "It's settled, then?" I shake his hand and laugh silently.

"That'll work out," Dean mutters. Sam smacks him and I glare. "Sorry, sorry."

"Well, since you're settled in, we'll see you tomorrow," Sam says, standing to give me a hug. I give one to each of them and watch them leave before bouncing back up onto Jacks' back and going to the commons room.

The week passes quickly, all except the day Jacks is gone, but the candy we took makes up for it. That Saturday, I get checked out and settle into the car to go home. Cas knocks me out again, mainly because I don't want to risk it, and we're off.


	18. Chapter 18

"Oh, my gosh," Misty cries, "you're ok! We were all so worried!" I smile at her as I walk up to the school.

"Yeah, I'm better." I talk softly because my throat is still sore. At least I can talk now.

"Where did you go?" Aiden asks while we walk inside.

"Where do you think?" I respond dryly.

"Ah, sorry."

"What was it like?" It's Misty who asks the inevitable question.

"Going home," I say, knowing my answer will surprise them.

"Home?"

"I'm in there a lot." I shrug. It's not really a big deal for me to be in there anymore. I'm used to it.

"Oh. But what is it like?"

"There's this sense of safety and security there. Everyone knows that you're struggling with something and they can kind of comprehend what you're going through. Everyone is kind and polite and tries to be friendly to everyone, even if they don't like them."

"Wow," Misty comments, " but don't you feel safe here, at the school."

"Can any of you understand what this is like for me? No," I shake my head, "you can't and because of that, there's more judgment or dislike."

"You think none of us can understand you?" Aiden sounds utterly offended.

"Not my mental illnesses, no. For someone who's never had them, it's impossible. Be grateful you can't."

"You're right," he sighs, "we should be grateful we can't understand that. But we do try to understand you." I grin.

"I know you do, now come on, we have to go to class." The bell rings over our heads and we rush off in different directions.

About halfway through the first class, the intercom crackles.

"Hello, sorry for the interruption, but could you please send Ava Winchester to the office?" The secretary asks politely. I frown. There's never been a problem coming back from the hospital before. I made up all the work over the weekend and turned it in before classes started, just like I always do. I stand and walk slowly from the room, suddenly nervous. I really can't afford to miss any more classes, not this close to the end of the first semester.

"Hello?" I say softly as I enter the office. "I'm Ava. I was told to come here."

"Ah, yes. Go on in. The principal is waiting." Why does the principal want to see me? I haven't done anything wrong.

"Ava," Principal Gove stands, sounding utterly displeased, "have a seat."

I don't sit and instead say, "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? My doctor did send a note excusing me last week."

"Yes, we received it, however it was still inappropriate for you to simply decide to stay out all week." This lady who had seemed nice enough the first time I met her is now one of my least favorite people in the world.

"Doctor's orders." I mutter dryly.

"School comes first," she hisses.

"No, health comes first."

"Sorry, yes, health comes first. But sending fake doctor's notes doesn't count." My jaw drops. Is she joking?

"I'm sorry, did you just say fake? I really was in the hospital."

"Oh, what was wrong? You don't seem sick to me and the note didn't mention an illness."

"I wasn't physically sick, I was in the hospital. Call my brothers if you must. Or call the doctor. Either way." I cross my arms and wait while she dials.

"Hello?" Dean's rough voice grunts from the other end. Something clatters in the background; he's likely working on Baby.

"Mr. Winchester? This is Principal Gove and I'm here with Ava," the principal tells him in a smooth voice. She was so harsh with me, but is sappy to him? What game is she playing? There's a scraping noise on the other end and Dean's voice is suddenly clear as day.

"What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"Well, she is in a bit of trouble."

"She did something within a half-hour of getting to school?" Even he couldn't have managed that.

"Not exactly. Were you aware that she didn't come to school all of last week?"

"That's what this is about?" He doesn't even bother trying to conceal his anger. "Lady, I don't know what you think she did, but Ava was in the hospital for the entirety of last week. We had a note sent over. If you didn't receive it, I will have another one faxed to you. Now, I think my sister has missed enough classes, don't you? Ava, go back to class and if there's any more issues, call me immediately."

"Alright, I'll see you at three, then." I smirk triumphantly and march out of the room. Serves her right for trying to get me in trouble when I was clearly in the right.

"Ms. Winchester," Principal Gove hollers after me once Dean has hung up, "I did not say you could go."

"No, but an adult did. I'm going back to class. Like Dean said, I really cannot afford to miss any more." I roll my eyes at her. "Besides, we both know that note wasn't a fake." She glares at me, but doesn't attempt to stop me as I leave. Not a word is spoken when I re-enter my class and slip into my seat. There's still about ten minutes left, just enough time for me to scribble down the notes and homework before the bell rings. I manage it, somehow, even with my mind spinning with questions. Was that a test? Why even call me down? The note wasn't a fake. Was she targeting me for some reason?

I shake the thoughts from my head. I can't think like that. I have absolutely zero evidence either way. It would have to happen multiple times before that would even be an option. But I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.


	19. Chapter 19

"What was up with your principal?" Sam asks as soon as I get in the car that afternoon.

"No idea," I huff, "but that was really rude of her."

"And that she yelled at you before speaking to us. And took you out of class," Dean glances up into the mirror. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Good enough. Jenna and Misty were hoping to do another sleepover, but at our place this time. So there's no problems."

"Maybe in a week or two." Sam looks to Dean to see his reaction. When Dean nods, Sam continues, "once we're entirely sure that it won't happen again."

"Of course," I agree immediately. "That's what I meant." I giggle. It's not like I would've had one tomorrow or anything.

"Good. So, home, homework, dinner, research, then bed. Got it?" Dean makes eye contact with me in the mirror. I agree instantly. "You still have to take that medication, right?"

"Yep," I nod sharply, "half a dose now that I'm out."

"Half a dose? Two pills?"

"Yeah, for this week. One pill next week, then as needed for the next two." I look out the window at the field we're driving past. The few trees blur at Dean's extremely illegal speed.

"Memorize it already?" Sam sounds shocked, but he really shouldn't be.

"Same schedule I'm on every time I come home. I'd be concerned if I didn't have it memorized by now."

"Oh. Yeah, fair point." My brothers are silent for the rest of the ride. We only speak over dinner, but the minute I get home, I'm accosted by Cas and Crowley about my day.

Soon, I'm off to bed. Thanks to the meds, I sleep with no dreams at all and wake up fully rested. In short, the day starts off well. Then we get to school.

Principal Gove is waiting outside with an officer. She points to our car as we drive up.

"Ava, are you seeing anything around either of them?" Sam turns in his seat, leaning to let me get a better look.

"Well," I pause, focusing on the principal. Something glints softly around her. "Something about her has changed. I'm fairly certain she's human, but now… it's different. Like there's something new or more about her." My eyes turn to the officer. "He's a shapeshifter."

"Why would a human date a shifter?" Dean wonders aloud.

"Why would a human work with a shifter?" Sam corrects.

"No, Dean was right." My eyes scan over her again. "She's pregnant. The baby isn't human. That's what changed."

"Shoot. Ok, Ava, stay in the car." Dean and Sam get out and approach the officer.

"Like hell," I mutter and dig out a silver knife from a hidden pocket in my backpack. After hiding it in my boot, I slip out of the car. Standing next to my brothers, backpack over my shoulder, all I can do is listen to the argument. Principal Gove is still claiming that I ditched all of last week, and due to previous absences, a truancy officer needed to be called.

"Ava," Aiden whispers in my ear, "what's going on?"

"She is claiming my note from last week was a fake. That, plus when I had the flu, apparently warranted calling a truancy officer."

"Bitch," he hisses and moves away. The bell rings.

"Go to class," Sam orders, adding with a sneer, "you shouldn't miss any more."

"Of course," I agree, smirking. "I'll see both of you later." I let my eyes take in the officer's true face once more so he won't be able to trick me later before hurrying to class.

When lunch rolls around, I'm entirely the focus of conversation. Everyone wants to know what was going on outside. Towards the end of first period, Dean had texted me to let me know that it had been mostly cleared up. Problem is, if I'm absent any more this semester, we'll all get in a ton of trouble. Sam also added that he thinks they may try to find me a different school to go to. I'm not sure if I want that, but I also don't want to risk having to go up against Principal Gove again. I guess we'll see how this plays out.

Finally, the topic changes.

"Are you going to the basketball game tonight?" Misty asks.

"I didn't even know there was one." I suppose basketball season would have started recently.

"You should come. It starts at five," Jenna implores. "We're all going to be there."

"I'll ask Dean, but I should be able to, I hope." I slide my phone out of my pocket and type out a text.

_Dean, I know I agreed earlier to coming straight home, but could I go to the basketball game tonight? -Ava_

Ten minutes later, the response  _Fine, but all your homework gets done before you leave the bunker. -Dean_  pops up on the screen. I imagine the ten minute wait was Sam arguing that I should be allowed to go when Dean doesn't want me to.

"I can go," I cheer as we start packing up to go to our next class.

**Time jump: After school**

Dean makes it very clear on the ride home that he isn't fully in agreement about me going to the game today.

"Seriously, Dean, relax," Sam finally cuts in. "She can take care of herself. If she needs us, she'll call."

"I just worry," Dean defends himself.

"I have no problem with that," I tell him. "But I do need to be able to find my own limits. Trust me to know how to take care of myself. But what happened this morning?"

"Exactly what I told you earlier. If you miss any more school in the next two weeks, this could go to court. Even though we were correct in taking you to the hospital." Dean rolls his eyes at the idiocy of the principal, but at the moment, she does have the upper hand. We pull into the garage and I get started on homework while my brothers make dinner. The time passes quickly and soon, I'm heading out to my first high school basketball game.


	20. Chapter 20

"What's the other team?" I ask Aiden as the teams warm up.

"Our rival, Lebanon High. They try to pack our stands, so a bunch of their other teams are here. I think it's their entire football, swimming, and baseball teams. Plus their cheerleaders and fans." He chuckles and adds, "we do the same thing. That's why we're all here today."

"This rivalry is serious, then."

"Only during games. Outside of school, it's no big deal."

"We do like to joke about it sometimes, though," Misty adds.

"Why have two high schools if the town is so small?"

"Technically, Lebanon doesn't have an official high school," Jenna explains, "Half of the kids in Lebanon go to Lebanon High and the rest of us go to Kripke. Kripke and Lebanon both pull from a bunch of towns and have a similar number of students. They're a good opponent." I nod and look silently across the court at the other set of bleachers. They abbreviate their school name to LHS. Where do I know that from? Before I can figure it out, the players are announced and the game begins. I'm not too into basketball, so I don't focus the majority of the game. Only when we score or have a free throw do I pay attention. The game lasts a little over an hour.

"I can't believe we won," Misty laughs as we walk out. "We haven't won a basketball game in the past three weeks."

"I'm glad I got to see our team win. I probably won't go to any more games, so this was nice," I agree. The chatter continues around me as I feel my exhaustion from the day press against me. The crowd seems to be getting closer and closer. "Guys," I choke out, "I need to get out of this crowd." Typically, it's being alone that bothers me, but it's possible to feel alone if you're surrounded by too many people. Right now, that sense of isolation is riling my anxiety within me.

"Shoot, okay." Jenna looks into my eyes, seeing the panic there beginning to rise. She takes my arm tugging me through the crowd to an open area to our left.

"Are you okay?" Aiden kneels next to where I'm sitting with my hands pressing into my forehead.

"I'm going to have a panic attack," I whisper. "It's better now that we're out of the crowd, but I need to get somewhere safe. Or, well, somewhere that feels safe. Preferably the bunker."

"Do you want me to call one of your brothers?" Misty offers. I move to hand my phone over, but before I can pull it from my pocket, a group of kids from the other school decide to walk around us. Instantly, that isolated, trapped feeling catches me. "Last time it was a U-haul, right?" I nod, not trusting myself to breathe. "Okay, well, they're heading straight for a school bus. Could that be a trigger?" My head whips up, eyes wild. Is she kidding?

"The bus will set me off. Do whatever you have to. Don't let me scream. Knock me out if you have to. If I scream, this close to my last episode, I could permanently damage my vocal chords."

"Dang it," Aiden swears under his breath. He shoots to his feet and starts running for the bus, presumably to tell the bus driver not to start it. Another wave of kids surround us, he disappears from my sight, and the bus starts.

Three things happen simultaneously. I get caught in a flashback, start screaming, and all my friends start calling my name.

The screaming draws a crowd and soon we're encircled. I can't stop screaming.

"Everybody back up," a new voice shouts over me. The person muscles their way through the crowd. "Ava, listen to me, darlin'. I want you to look me in the eyes. C'mon, you can do it." He's wrong. I can't do it. "Alright, then. I'll try somethin' else. Your name is Ava. You're at Kripke High School. It's Tuesday at 7 o'clock in the evenin'. It's the end of November." My mind starts to clear. It was July in my flashback, but if it's really November, then what I'm seeing can't be real. "Can you see me? Look me in the eyes." My gaze lifts. The crowd around me has backed off, not entirely gone, but there's enough space for me to breathe. "Good. Can you breathe?" I nod. "Do you know who I am?"

"Jacks. Why are you here?"

"I was watchin' the game. Then I saw you out here. Want to tell me some colors? See anything that matches the color of your shirt?"

"I'm wearing school colors. Half the people here are wearing the same color as me."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Well enough to leave."

"If you're sure." He takes my hands and helps me to my feet. One arm slips around my waist. "Tell me where we're goin'."

"Left, to the parking lot."

"Not that we aren't grateful for you helping her, but we can get her to her car." Aiden steps up and stares Jacks down.

"You think you can get her through that crowd?" Jacks nods to the people ahead of us. "I've got an entire football team here with me that'll help clear a path."

"I trust Jacks," I tell Aiden, wincing at the feeling in my throat. "He'll take care of me. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow."

"Alright, man, clear me a path," Jacks bellows. One of the football players nods and suddenly, the whole LHS football team is pushing through the crowd and clearing off the sidewalk. "C'mon, darlin'. Let's get you home." He supports me the entire way, despite my not really needing it. I'm a little shaky, yes, but I could walk.

"My car is over there. Silver Volkswagen Beetle." I raise my hand and point to our right. Jacks leads the way.

"Where are your keys, darlin'? I don't think you should be drivin' after that."

"You're probably right." I draw the keys out of my jacket pocket and let him have them.

"You want us to wait for you?" Another guy calls. Jacks says no and sends him home before getting me settled into the car.

"I'll need you to give me directions. Think one of your brothers would drive me home?"

"I don't know if they would. Turn left out of the lot. It's pretty close to a straight shot."

"What am I looking for?"

"The old power plant."

"Okay," he sounds a bit dubious, "go ahead and close your eyes, darlin'. I'm sure you're exhausted." I take his advice, letting my eyes fall shut and confident in the fact that he can get me home safely.


	21. Chapter 21

"Ava, darlin', I need you to wake up now. I can see the power plant. Where am I turnin'?" Jacks is shaking my arm with extreme caution, as if he is scared he'll hurt me. I help him find the road once I manage to open my eyes. Before long, I'm pointing out the garage.

"Come on in with me. Let's see if we can't get someone to take you home." I lead the way through the bunker. Now that I'm in comfortable surroundings, I feel better and safer. Jacks still insists on holding my arm 'just to be safe.'

The sound of a gun cocking behind us brings me to a halt. Guess we've found Dean.

"Who are you?" he demands. I slowly turn around. Jacks remains facing the other way, seeing as the gun is aimed at his head.

"Dean, calm down. This is Jacks, my friend from the hospital. You need to put the gun down." He makes no sign of moving. The gun never wavers from its place at Jacks' skull. "Now." He looks away from Jacks and to me. Then, he lowers the gun. He doesn't put it away, however, which is a bit concerning. There is a tension in his shoulders I haven't seen before.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Cas left. Trouble back home." Dean is this upset over Cas leaving? I mean, yeah, he spends a lot of time with the angel, but I didn't think they were this close. Just how close are they?

"He said he'd come back, though, right?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you upset?" Dean looks down and there is no response.

He takes a slow breath and asks, "why is he here?" So I explain the situation to him, with Jacks interjecting here and there to give a bit more detail. When we finish telling him, I can't decide if he's angry or distraught.

"I knew this was a bad idea." His hands scrub across his face. "I shouldn't have let you go."

"Dean, there was no way we could predicted this. It was more crowded than a typical game and my anxiety flared."

"Mr. Winchester, I know you're concerned about her, but this was an accident. Protecting her is one thing, but keeping her from living is different," Jacks adds. Dean just glares at him, refusing to believe there are things he can't protect me from.

"Can we argue about this later? My throat is sore and Jacks needs a ride home." I give Dean my puppy eyes and he sighs.

"One minute, I'll have Sam take him back." Dean marches away.

"You didn't tell me he has a gun," Jacks says with a joking glare.

"Sorry," I croak, "didn't think he'd do that."

"It's alright, darlin'. He's just protectin' you." Jacks gives me an understanding smile. "Now, I didn't realize we lived this close to each other."

"We didn't before. I lived two towns over, before. I was wondering why I knew the initials LHS."

"You're feelin' better, right? You'll be okay if I leave?"

"I'll be fine," I assure him. "My brothers are here. Plus, this is my safe place."

"Good. Well, since we live so near each other, I'd like to meet up with you and make sure you're alright, okay?" His hands rest on my shoulder. "And, you're a friend. We don't just have to be hospital buddies anymore." He puts his number in my phone and we agree to meet up sometime over the weekend. Sam appears sometime during this exchange.

"You're the boy from the hospital. Jacks, isn't it?" Jacks nods and shakes Sam's hand. "Do you live far?"

"Only about fifteen minutes' drive, Mr. Winchester." He looks back at me. "I'll see you around, Ava." I give a little wave and then he's gone.

"Alright," Dean orders, "take your meds then go to bed. You've had a rough night. I'll excuse the homework just this once. I figure it can't hurt you to miss one assignment for each class." I smile up at my brother. It's hard to imagine that it was just August that I didn't know him. Now it's November, I'm seventeen, and I'm living with blood relatives. I do as he asks, taking my throat medication, but I don't take the sleeping pill just yet.

"Dean? I do need to talk to you guys about what's wrong with me. You should know the full story."

"We read the report the doctor gave us." He looks down and one foot shuffles guiltily. "We made sure to this time. Didn't want to make the same mistake we did before, waiting for you to talk to us."

"That's good, but that's not all of it. Actually, that's just the tip of the iceberg. The packet they gave you was a medical report. That only has what happened just before they found me. It doesn't have the worst of it."

"There's more?" His heart breaking is almost audible.

"Isn't there always?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning! I actually put words to the hints I've been dropping about her past in earlier chapters, so if you think you could be triggered by any of that, please skip this chapter. I should have the next one up in a day or two. If I reference this chapter later, I'll include the information I'm referencing. This chapter is just in place of a prologue.

 

"Dean?" Sam calls, walking towards the library.

"In the kitchen!" The elder responds. Sam's head peaks in.

"Oh, she's still up. That works." Long legs carry him to the table where I'm sitting. "Can I ask why you let him know where we live? I know we let you tell a few friends and have them over, but you asked us first."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I couldn't think, really. I just wanted to get home." I blink hard. I hadn't even realized that they might consider Jacks a risk.

"It's okay," Dean tells me. "I doubt we would've thought anything of it had it been us." He shoots Sam a glare. Silent communication zings between the two of them.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you. I didn't think about why he drove you home. What happened?" He sits across from me, the serious and concerned look reminding me of what the police looked like after finding me. It's the look they give every victim, I believe, one to garner trust.

"I had another flashback. It was pretty bad. The only reason I'm still able to speak is because Jacks was there." I rub a finger across the table. "We know methods for bringing people out of panic attacks and flashbacks. He got me to stop screaming and come back to reality."

"Then I'm glad he was there and able to get you home." Sam fidgets across the table, likely thinking about what I must have flashbacked to. Dean, as well, spins a beer bottle between his fingers. Finally, he sighs and speaks.

"You said there was more we needed to know."

"Yeah. I never told the police everything. I- I couldn't." And I start talking. Making no eye contact, I allow my entire, sordid history. "You know the basics. My mom got pregnant by your dad. At that point, she had a decent job, but she was a gold digger. When she found out she was pregnant and John wasn't going to support her, she started hunting for someone to take care of us. I was born mid-September, before she had found anyone. Being a single mom made it difficult, but she eventually got a boyfriend with a large trust fund. I was about three at that point. He gave us a real house instead of an apartment, Mom quit her job, and the two of them started down the path to destruction.

"There was good money to be made in drugs in our area. So, thanks to his connections, they got started in that. He kept his job and had Mom run the day-to-day of it all. By the time I was five, they were the biggest name in town. I got taken to deals and such. Mom had someone to guard her, but by this time, they didn't really care about me, so when I got dragged along, I sometimes got caught in the middle of fights. I got hurt a lot. My ability developed when I was six and lead to my parents leaving me at home pretty much all day, every day. They claimed I was home schooled. I didn't actually learn to read until I was put into foster care nearly three years later.

"I was seven when things got really bad. I stopped hiding from people and started attacking them. I got taken to a doctor and diagnosed. They started beating me to keep me in line. Two years later, the two of them got shot making a deal and I was put into the system. The state then discovered that I hadn't been to school or taught anything. I was in remedial classes for a while, but I caught up quickly. I didn't respond well to the large-classroom situation. I was extremely volatile; thought violence was how to respond to confrontation because that's what I'd always seen. I was bounced between one home and the other until they finally just left me in a group home because no one could handle me and my 'disability.'

"That year, they were trying to find Dad. He turned up just after my tenth birthday, on a Friday. I was scared, thought he'd beat me or ignore me like Mom and her boyfriend did. He ditched me on the side of a highway in the middle of the night. A man in an SUV picked me up. Told me he'd drive me into town. He didn't have a monster's face, so I trusted him. You'd think by that time, I'd have learned monsters could be human, too. Guess I didn't, because I got in. Needless to say, it didn't go well. He did take me to the city, but just before we arrived, he knocked me out, basically suffocated me until I passed out. It was horrible. He carried me into his house, which had a basement.

"You read in the report the condition I was found in; bruises practically everywhere, cuts and scrapes, and even burn marks. I had a concussion from being tossed around. And I had been raped.

"Anyway, I managed to kick out a window when he left for work on Monday morning. I wandered around until a policeman pulled over. I refused to get in the car with him. He called the paramedics and they had to sedate me to get me into the ambulance. They found out who I was, but by then, Dad was long gone and there was no use in looking for him. He'd already managed to evade them for a year without really meaning to, imagine how he'd do now that he wanted to stay off their radar. So I was in a group home for two months. During that time, I was found to have been misdiagnosed with schizophrenia and it was replaced with depression, anxiety, and PTSD. I was given medications, as you well know, but they didn't entirely clear up my nightmares. The four foster homes I lived in over the next few months couldn't handle it. I was left in a group home again.

"I was nearly eleven when Joanie turned up. She came to the group home to meet me before taking me. The doctors had encouraged the state to find me a real home to stay in, not a group home. They said I would recover faster, so when she offered to take me, the state agreed. Granted, it didn't hurt that the people running the group home didn't want me anymore, either. I lived with her until- well, until now.

"I remember my first night with Joanie. She had me help make dinner, burgers and mashed potatoes. We had ice cream for dessert. She even let me have a little soda, but told me to consider it a treat. She gave me the clothes I didn't have. Like with you, I had to basically start over because of all the neglect I'd experienced. That day, she had gotten me all the clothes I could possibly need. Most of it was loose, baggy clothing that I could hide in, but I also had some jeans and sweaters. She liked that style, so I wore that for dinner. She helped me fix my hair before bed and then I fell asleep. When I had a nightmare, she took care of me without blinking. She wasn't mad. And that's when I knew I had to stay with her. The very next morning, we had pancakes. She was more of a parent to me than anyone I've ever had.

"School wasn't fun. Kids in the area thought I was weird. In their defense, I was, but I'd also been through a hell of a time. For a long time, the only way I communicated with people was through pain. So I started cutting. I knew it wasn't healthy, like everyone does when they start, but I didn't care. I needed pain to feel like myself. I was clever enough to only do it rarely. Enough to have the pain, but not enough to be suspected of it when I went into the hospital. I was in and out of there so often, it was practically my home. All my friends were other frequent visitors. That's probably part of the reason I went back so often. There wasn't a reason for me to get better to stay out of it. Joanie felt she was doing something wrong for a while, but the doctor told her there wasn't really anything she could do besides be there for me and lend me a shoulder when I needed it. And that's what she did, all the way up until the fire.

"The fire was bad. There was an electrical surge and my backpack was near one of the outlets. Not on purpose, that just happened to be where I put my backpack every day, without thinking. Well, the surge jumped to the metal zipper that was really close and it caught the cloth around it on fire. It spread extremely quickly and boxed Joanie into her room. They had to send firefighters in after me because I wouldn't leave her. They told me it looked like she hadn't even left her bed when she died, that she had passed out and likely didn't even feel a thing.

"It only took them a week or so to find you and two days for you to come get me. And now we're here." My story told, I sit back and busy myself with voiding eye contact. Dean is the one who speaks first.

"Thank you for telling us." He is silent after that. Neither of them, I presume, know what to say.

"I didn't realize it was worse than what the report said. So, your flashbacks aren't always to the same thing? No- wait, I didn't ask that. You don't have to answer."

"But I should. No, they're not always to the same time. Now, I have nightmares about the fire, the guy who kidnapped me, my abuse, the first monsters I saw, and the deals I was taken to. I couldn't tell you what was the worst of all that."

"Just- was the guy who took you ever caught?" I pause, thinking about how to answer this tactfully.

"Most of my nightmares are about him. I was able to get the police to the house, but it wasn't enough. The guy rented the house and paid in cash. I was able to give an okay description, enough for them to match him to other cases of kidnapping. He is in jail now, but the prosecutor rushed the cases. They wanted him behind bars as quick as possible. I was the only victim who survived. My testimony put him behind bars, but he does get possibility of parole eventually." I'm not really happy about that. He took a plea deal to get that, because typically that's not an option for serial killers, but if they'll give up the location of the bodies of victims, it can happen. It's something about reuniting families, which I understand to some degree.

"So he's in jail now, but not for long."

"Right."

"I'm so sorry, Ava. Is there anything you need us to do?" Sam asks, gently putting one hand on mine.

"Nothing right now. I feel safe enough here. I do need to sleep, though." After taking my meds and giving them both hugs, I slip off to my room to escape the rest of the day.


	23. Chapter 23

Three weeks later, after finals are over, I still haven't had another episode. My report card showed all A's, giving my brothers cause for celebration. This is coming in the form of allowing me to join them on another hunting trip. The boys weren't happy that I didn't tell them my birthday was in September, so we're leaving the day after Christmas so they can go entirely overboard to make up for missing my birthday. Now, I'm on the hunt for some Christmas presents. I've only got five days to get them gifts. I have some money left over from when I had a job, thankfully.

"Dean?" I call as I pull on a coat, "I'm going to meet up with Jacks. I should be home in a few hours."

"Alright," he returns, sounding distracted. Probably trying to find a case. I jog to the garage and settle into Luna. The local mall, which is just outside city limits, is fairly small, but they have enough that I should be able to get something good for each of them. When I pull in, I head for the small fountain in the center. Jacks agreed to meet me there. The last few weeks, we've met up each weekend to hang out. He's becoming a real friend and has agreed to help me with my shopping today. He did have one condition: help him get something for his sister and mom. Which is absolutely no problem for me.

"Hey," he walks over and gives me a hug, "how are you?"

"So much better now that school is over." He chuckles and unzips his coat. I unbutton mine as we start walking.

"Where do you want to start?"

"I thought I'd get Sam and Dean each a new shirt or two and some socks. My God, Dean's are rancid." I shudder at the thought. They really do reek.

"Okay, well, I like this store," Jacks says and leads the way into a store. For the next hour we pull out shirt after shirt trying to decide what to get them. Finally, I decide on a solid army-green shirt for Dean and a red plaid shirt for Sam. When we start browsing for Jacks' sister, I run across a little angel statue and a little demon statue. Jacks didn't understand why, but that's what I got Cas and Crowley.

"Do you think she'd like the floral one?" Jacks' sister wants a purse this year for Christmas, but Jacks neglected to find out anything more. So we assumed she'd want something medium-sized with three pockets and a long strap. That narrowed it down to practically everything in the store, of course.

"I don't know," he tilts his head, "maybe we should just get a solid color."

"Does she have any purses?"

"One. I think it's pink."

"Alright, so a black or a brown one would be a safe bet. Everyone needs a neutral color purse." I point out a few different options. Jacks decides that a glossy black would be best. "While you decide what style to get, I'm going to run to the bathroom." I hurry off, sneaking into the cooking store. He's a chef, not a baker. I've been in this store once or twice and something I find really cool is this salt block that you can cook on. So guess what he's getting. I pay quickly and put the heavy brick in one of the clothing bags.

I get back to Jacks just as he finishes paying.

"I actually got two so I can give one to my mom. Different colors, of course." He looks so proud of himself, with a little smile and holding the bag up to show me. The purse for his mom is a light purple, presumably her favorite color. Both purses have a cute little bow on the front pocket; not too large to be gaudy but not too small to make it plain.

"Good choice." His smile grows tenfold and is infectious.

"Come on, let's go get lunch. I'll treat to dessert." He grabs my hand and practically drags me to a popular restaurant. I've never been here before, but he clearly has. He raves about one of the chefs, telling me how great he is, that he's a family friend, and how he's taken time to teach Jacks some of his tricks.

The waiter approaches our table. Under his human face, I see a flicker of another face; a human one. He's a shifter. I look away quickly, composing myself and closing off my ability.

"Hello, Jacks," he smiles, almost seeming kind, "and miss. I'm Andrew and I'll be your server today. What can I get you to start?" I order a lemonade and Jacks has a Coca-Cola. When the shifter leaves, Jacks tells me all about how he's been working there for over a year and so on, so forth. Soon, our drinks are in front of us and we order our meals.

Jacks was right; this is delicious. I had chicken parmesan and he got steak tacos. He's told me before that they're his favorite. He let me try a bite and I'd have to agree. They are stellar. Dessert menus are brought out in short order. I get a slice of chocolate cake and he orders tiramisu. When it arrives, we split them and dig in.

All in all, the meal is amazing. Of course, having good company is truly what makes a good dinner. I have to say, Jacks is the best company I've had in a long while. Yes, my brothers are great, but I can just sit down with Jacks and talk for hours or sit silently for hours, it doesn't matter, and either way, we're comfortable.

"Thank you for the dessert," I say as we leave the mall.

"It was my pleasure, darlin'. I'll walk you to your car." He shifts his bags all to one hand and holds his arm out to me. Jacks; always the gentleman.

"Thanks," I say, yet again, with a little chuckle. "We should meet up again before Christmas. Maybe the day before Christmas Eve?"

"That should work." He looks me in the eye, adding, "and darlin'? Don't even think about buyin' me anythin'."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I laugh, toss my bags into the car, and slip in. He watches me pull out, only moving to his own car when I am almost to the exit. On anyone else, that'd be creepy, but it's Jacks. Besides, he's one of three people who know everything about what happened to me. I don't blame him for being protective.


	24. Chapter 24

Christmas morning finds me in the kitchen, making pancakes and waffles of many varieties, including blueberry, chocolate chip, and strawberry. After putting everything, including a bowl of eggs and plate of bacon, in the warmer, I set out a couple syrups and place settings in the library, where I had decorated with a red table cloth, sparkling holiday lights, holly, and even a small tree in the corner. The tree isn't really decorated aside from some lights, but it's better than nothing. Although the boys had said they wanted to do Christmas right, I don't think they've ever had a real Christmas experience. So they didn't decorate, just hid in Deans room, whispering like gossiping teenagers about wrapping paper and the "perfect" present. To be honest, I don't care about the gifts, I just want to spend the day with my brothers, Cas, and Crowley.

I got to spend yesterday with Jacks. We went out for lunch and exchanged gifts before dessert arrived, despite both of us telling the other not to get us anything. He loved what I got him and the new non-stick cake tins he got me are wonderful!

Now that breakfast is ready, I take out the steaks I got for lunch. I'm going to make steak and arugula sandwiches, but they taste better once the meat has had a chance to cool off a bit, so cooking it in advance is the best option. Once the steak is made, the onion, lettuce, arugula, and tomatoes are chopped, and the bread I made last night is sliced neatly, I start prepping to make dinner. As I do, the clock catches my eye. I've been up for almost two hours. I quickly finish stuffing the turkey and go to wake everyone up. It's Seven on Christmas, there's no reason they shouldn't be awake by now.

"Dean," I yell through his door, "c'mon, it's Christmas. Get up!" I repeat the essentially the same thing at each door. When no one listens to me, I go back to the kitchen, clean up everything, and go back to make the rounds once more. Yet again, they don't get up for the day. Cas and Crowley might be out and about, but I know that Sam and Dean didn't leave for a fact. Baby is still in the garage. Rolling my eyes, I busy myself with making a cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, creamed corn, and a ham. I don't bother cooking anything yet, just mix the ingredients and stick it all in the fridge. All that's left are desserts, but before I can start, Sam moseys into the room.

"Merry Christmas!" I squeal.

"Merry Christmas," he responds with a grin. "How long have you been up?"

"I got up at five. Breakfast is warming in the oven, lunch is in the fridge, and dinner is prepped and just has to be cooked. I just have to do desserts."

"You're insane," he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "Good insane, of course. I'm sure it will all be delicious. Anything you need me to do?"

"Are you hungry now or do you want to let Dean wake up on his own?"

"Can I help you make dessert if we wait?" His eyes brighten. I hadn't ever pegged Sam to be one who would enjoy helping, but maybe that's just Christmas spirit.

"If that's what you want to do. We could always do it together after eating, with Dean, if you think he'd like to. Or would that be too chick flick-y?" Sam laughs, one of those truly-happy laughs that you wish you could hear every day because the sound is just so amazing.

"We should let him help. Before we found the bunker, he was complaining about not having a kitchen."

"Who wanted a kitchen?" Dean shuffles into the room in hilariously festive pajama bottoms and a robe.

"Dean, what are you wearing?" Dean looks down at his pants.

"Pajamas," he responds, sounding confused at Sam's question. "Where's the food?" I toss him some pot holders.

"In the oven. There's six plates, so we can each take two trips." I grab the eggs and lead the way. Dean is obnoxiously sniffing at the blueberry and strawberry pancakes. He doesn't seem too impressed. Sam, on the other hand, seems ecstatic at the blueberry and strawberry waffles he's holding. When we double back for the next round, I take the bacon, Dean grabs the chocolate chip and regular pancakes, and Sam gets the chocolate chip and regular waffles.

"Not that I can't pack away a ton of food, but are we really supposed to eat all this?" Dean asks as we sit to eat.

"Better too much than not enough," I shrug. Dean nods vigorously, already digging into the mountain of food on his plate. Sam takes a fair amount of each item, though he takes primarily the healthy stuff. I take only my favorites- chocolate chip and strawberry waffles and pancakes with a little eggs and bacon.

The day is mainly a blur of good food and conversation. We, for some reason, play hide and seek for a while, then move on to more mature games… Aka. Sam and Dean realized that we were actually having fun playing a "kid's" game and decided we needed to play Monopoly to restore their adulthood.

Only after we have dinner- which was a hit- do we finally agree to open gifts. All the packages, most poorly wrapped, are piled under the tree, arranged by recipient. There are far too many gifts in my pile for a typical Christmas, but it would probably be best not to argue. We go around in a circle, each opening one gift at a time. Cas and Crowley even join us, seeing as I got them each something. Well, and they got me something, too.

They all open what I got them first- oh, gosh, why? Sam and Dean love the shirts, almost a little too much, in my opinion. Crowley gets a laugh out of his demon statue while Cas is just utterly confused by it. Sam gave dean a new pair of socks and Dean gave Sam a stuffed carrot because, and I quote, "he eats so much rabbit food."

As for my gifts- well, I got far too much. A new pair of boots and socks from Cas, which are actually really cute. Sam and Dean got me a bunch of flannel tops, some new spatulas, and a set of knives, complete with a machete. From Crowley, I got a couple headbands and a leather jacket and a card saying that my final gift would arrive closer to New Years.

In all, this ranks among the best Christmases I've had, but to be honest, I'm more excited to go hunt tomorrow than anything.


	25. Chapter 25

Fourteen hours in a car, listening to the same album on repeat, and getting shut down every time you try to bring up the case is practically torture. They won't tell me where we're going or any details of the case. Something about wanting see if I can figure it out on my own, which to me means they're not even sure what we're looking at. Confusing, as they typically don't want me on risky hunts- ghosts and the likes are the only ones they've ever let me on.

"We're ten minutes out," Dean finally announces.

"Thank God," I mutter. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but even I can't handle Dean after a burrito. "Does someone want to tell me the plan here? I know you're planning to go look at the bodies, but how do you intend to get me in?"

"You won't be going in to see the bodies with us. We'll get the case files and you can see the pictures, but you're right, it'd be too difficult to get you in with a believable lie," Sam says, "Instead, you'll find the nearest motel, get us a room-" he pauses.

"What?"

"Well, I was just thinking maybe we should get two rooms. One for you, one for us."

"A double and a single. That'd work. I'll see if I can't get them right next to each other, or connecting."

"Do we need two rooms?" Dean asks, glancing over at Sam.

"Yes, Dean, we do."

"Unless they have a room with a pull out bed. Then I'll get that."

"Are you sure?" Sam frowns. "It might be more comfortable for you to have your own room. Separate bathroom and all."

"Pull-out couch will be my second option, but it is an option." Sam shuffles around in his seat, pulling out his wallet and handing me a card.

"Just pay for one night. When we get there, we'll add more nights on as needed," he tells me.

"Sounds good. But one problem. Don't you have to be eighteen to rent a hotel room?" My school ID probably isn't going to cut it.

"Technically. But we got that covered. See the brown box under my seat?" Dean smirks, "go ahead and open it." Inside is a pile of fake IDs, badges, and business cards. I notice one small stack of rubber banded IDs and pull it out. They all have my picture, but different names and addresses on each. I chuckle at the one claiming I'm twenty two. No one would fall for that.

"Twenty two? Really?"

"Might be a bit of a stretch, but I figured with the right makeup and lighting, you could pull it off." Dean chuckles a bit and I know I can't use that ID for at least another year, but he's right, make-up combined with the dark lighting of a bar or club and no one would be the wiser.

Dean pulls into a lot and parks. They both adjust their suits and slide badges into the inside pockets. After helping me shoulder my bag, Dean hands me the ID he wants me to use and keeps the rest of the stack to himself. After quick hugs, I watch them walk into the morgue before turning and wandering down the street, phone in hand.

I'm sure they thought it'd take me a while to find the closest motel, but they forget that they bought me a smartphone. One quick search off Google and I know I'm less than a mile from a nice motel that allows eighteen year olds to check in. It doesn't take me long to get there at all and thankfully, the area is safe-looking, as is the motel. Clean, not trashy, and not filled with "one-night dates" looking for a little cash. Plus, there's a nice bar across the street I know Dean will approve of.

"Hello, miss," the receptionist calls politely, "booking a room?"

"I need two, actually. A room with one double bed and a room with two double beds?"

"Let me just see what we have available." There's a pause as he taps at the keyboard. "Ah, yes, we have just what you need. Would you like the rooms to be connecting? As luck would have it, we have that available."

"Could you? That'd be wonderful, thanks."

"Of course, no trouble at all." After a moment, he glances up. "I'm going to need your ID, please, and then you'll need to sign some waivers."

"Um, here's my ID," I dig it out of my pocket and hand it over, "but do you have a pen?" The man chuckles.

"Sure do. Here's the papers. I'm just going to make a copy of it for our records. After you check out, it will be destroyed."

"Oh, a-alright." Is that normal? Maybe it's a new policy? Or just because I look young?

"First time checking into a motel?" The man asks as I pass back the papers.

"Yes, actually. I never really traveled. I mean, not to an area where I couldn't just stay with someone." That's not a lie; when I was in the system, I traveled a fair amount, but never stayed in a motel.

"I gotcha. We just copy your ID so if the room is trashed when you check out, we know who it was. Some people like to check in under fake names. This is just insurance."

"That makes sense," I agree after a second.

"Will you be paying with credit card?" I glance at the card in my hand. As if Sam knew this was the plan already, it has the same name as the ID Dean gave me.

"Yes, I will be." I pass the card over and watch closely as he swipes it. He hands it back and makes two different booklets of key cards.

"Alright, your rooms are 213, which is the single, and 215, the double. You'll go up those stairs on your right and they'll be down the hall to the left on your left."

"Great, thanks." I gather my things and hurry off to the room. Sure, the guy seemed nice, but I don't know him and don't need to. I just want to be settled safely behind a locked door to wait for Sam and Dean.

The keycard works on the first try, to my utter relief. I toss the bags I'm carrying onto the bed and bolt the door, lock the handle, and attach the chain. After checking that the connecting door is locked as well, I pull out my phone.

_Got connecting rooms. I'm in 223. -Ava_

A minute later, I receive a message back from Sam.

_Great. We'll be there in a half hour or less. -Sam_

Good. So what do I do now? I glance at the bags on the bed. I'm not going to unpack; it's not like we'll be here long enough. Besides, the cleaning ladies might think it's odd if they notice a gun and a knife in the dresser or under the pillow. So that's not an option. I would read up on the case, but I don't have Sam's laptop and I do not enjoy the kind of multi-tab searching I would have to do on my phone. Besides, they'll be bringing me all the information in a half hour anyway, so all that would be is busy work. Finally, my eyes settle on the TV remote. Why not? I flip on the news and settle on the bed with my phone. There is, at least, something else I can research.


	26. Chapter 26

The announcement of my principal's wedding to the truancy officer doesn't exactly catch me off guard. Instead of dwelling on it, however, I take a screenshot, close the tab, and start looking into how to change public schools. I am shocked at just how easy it is to transfer school districts if you have a decent reason. The principal singling you out for trouble counts as a good enough reason, apparently.

I'm not running away from the problem. I'll give her another chance, but three strikes and I'm done. I shouldn't have to deal with this for the rest of high school.

Banging on the door sends me practically a foot into the air.

"Ava?" It's just Dean, but for a second there, I was freaking out.

"One second!" I check through the peephole before undoing the locks and opening the door.

"This is a nice motel," he comments, stepping in.

"Because you didn't pick it," Sam mutters.

"I pick good motels," Dean cries defensively, causing Sam to make that face that words can't describe and only he can pull off.

"Anyway," I chuckle, "Here's your room keys. This is the extra one to mine." Dean slips over to the other room to unlock the connecting door from that side while I do the same from my room.

"We have the case files for you to look at," Sam tells me, idly scraping under his fingernail.

"Oh, awesome. Is it interesting?"

"Weird, mostly."

"Something you haven't seen before?"

"I'm not sure. Something about it seems familiar, but I have no clue what it is."

"Well, what's it doing?" Over the course of the next hour, the boys talk me through everything having to do with the case and we pool our minds to try to figure out what it could be. The monster is definitely parasitic, living in a human body and dehydrating them to the point of insanity and eventually death. During the insanity period, the human host will drink any available liquids. Some of the dead had drank another person's blood, hence why we came down. At the end of the hour, Dean decides he's had enough.

"Okay, I'm hungry. Who wants food?" Rubbing his hands together, he stands up and just stares at us expectantly.

"It is about dinner time," I agree, but wait for Sam to say something before I move.

"You know what, why not? Let's go." We tug our jackets over our shoulders and leave to walk through the town until we find somewhere we want to eat. Oddly enough, I noticed not a single supernatural creature in the whole walk. It's almost like they deserted this place. Usually, I'd see a weak witch or a psychic or two wandering around, but here, there's nothing.

Dinner passes uneventfully, aside from a bit of concern for Dean's cardiovascular health. Is all that grease really supposed to go inside a human body? We go back to the motel and settle into our separate rooms to get relax for a while. When ten o'clock rolls around, I take a quick shower, get into some comfy pajamas, and get to bed. Car seats do not make comfortable mattresses.

**Time Jump: The next morning**

Breakfast is a dull affair today. Eggs and fruit grace our plates, but aside from that, there is little to keep my attention. My eyes cannot help but scan the crowd, searching for someone, anyone, supernatural. But no one shows even the slightest hint of being special. Not even marginally psychic. Odd.

We end up walking around the town after breakfast, Sam and Dean talking to people and looking for anyone who might know anything. Our wandering around was useless, apparently, because as we approach the hotel, we hear screaming from the nearby gas station.

Some lunatic is trying to drink the gas. His skin looks like the slightest touch could send it crumbling into dust. He tilts his head back to drink more and that is when I see it. It's a small oval, worm-shaped with two protrusions on each end resting in his throat.

"Guys, it's in him," I hiss at my brothers, trying to keep anyone else from overhearing. "The parasite. That's why he's drinking the gas. It's dehydrating him like all the other victims." Their heads whip around to me almost comically. I'll laugh later.

"You sure?"

"I can see it in him. A worm-like thing inside his throat, like it crawled in through his mouth."

"Well," Sam turns back to him, "guess we gotta go try to control him, then." His eyes flicker to me. "Wait here. We're going to take him back to the motel."

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." My eyes burn from not blinking while I watch them wade through the crowd and try to grab the man. He doesn't go down without a fight, even managing to draw blood, which he subsequently tries to lick. It's another liquid. Finally, they wrestle his arms behind his back and march him back through the crowd.

"Run up and open a room," Dean orders, muscles straining under his coat as the man struggles in his hold. "We're right behind you." I do as told, sprinting as fast as I can across the street and up the stairs to the room. I open mine; there's less in there for the parasite to use as a weapon.

"What on Earth is that thing?" I ask as soon as the door is secured behind Sam.

"You said it looks like a worm?" Dean returns, seeming highly concerned. Sam has a look on his face, too, that worries me.

"Yeah, it does. With pincers."

"I think it's a Kahn worm. We've only seen it twice and it was different both times."

"The first time," Sam tells me, "we killed it with electricity. The second time we dehydrated it and burned it."

"Do you think this one is the same as the second?"

"I certainly hope so. It was somewhat easier to deal with, although neither would be preferable."


	27. Chapter 27

"So- anyone know how to kill this thing?"

"Just like last time," Dean sighs, "make a sweat lodge, dehydrate the host, and squish it once it's out."

"Squishing it will work?"

"It's just a worm," Sam says, ever so matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, then. Let's do it. Will the bathroom work?"

"No, too easy access to water. However, there was a cabin just outside of town. We crank the heat up in there, tie him down, and he should pop right out." This time, I roll my eyes at Dean. Seriously? It'll just "pop out?" Something tells me that it's version of "popping out" is going to make me feel a bit sick. Or a lot. But either way.

"Well, if you think it'll work, let's do it." We tie the guy up, knock him out, and sneak him to the car. After loading him into the trunk, we drive off to the cabin. It's about a thirty minute drive, so of course he's awake by the time we get there, but there's not exactly anything he can do. It's almost a bit frightening that Sam and Dean are so good at tying people up, but I'm choosing to ignore that for now. They attach him to the wall, far off from anything drinkable, and crank the heat up. Soon, we're all sweating, especially the infected guy. It only takes about ten minutes for him to dehydrate enough for the worm to make an appearance.

It wriggles up, through his throat, and I can see the pincers helping it move. I imagine it hurts pretty bad. If I were this guy, I'd be throwing up, because there is no way something comes up out of my throat and I don't gag. But then it's in his mouth and he starts to cough. It falls out and he continues to cough. Thankfully, there was just the one worm in him. I don't know that I could've watched that again. I mean, while my brothers could see it fall out, I had to watch the entire process as it squirmed up through his esophagus. Positively disgusting.

As soon as the vile worm hits the ground, Dean gestures to me.

"It's your hunt, you kill it." Give me anything else but an insect. They are just so wrong. But okay. I pick up a heavy looking book and slam it down on top of the brown worm. A little bit of guts spatter around the book.

"There we go. Job well done."

"I hate bugs," I say with a sneer. Sam laughs.  
"You would've hated this case we worked a few years ago." And he proceeds to tell me all about the time he and Dean fought a Native American curse to save the lives of people living in a new housing development. The best part- well, only good part of that story is how every real estate agent thought they were a gay couple. I would've loved to see that. The guy coughing on the ground doesn't seem to find the story quite as hilarious as I do.  
"You people are crazy," he croaks.  
"Says the guy who was just chugging gasoline." I glare pointedly at him and he shuts up.  
"He probably needs a hospital," Dean points out.  
"Then we drop him off and go back to the motel." I gather up our things while the boys lug the still-weak man to the car. This time, he gets to ride in the back seat. I cram into the front between my brothers. No way in hell am I sitting next to some guy I don't know, no matter how sickly he looks.  
We pull into the hospital drop off area and the guy scrambles from the car, grateful to finally be around some "sane human beings." He's the one who's insane if he refuses to acknowledge what happened to him.

"Finally!" I spin to climb to the back, notice all the gasoline on the seats, and say, "never mind," sitting back down.

"What's wrong?" Dean panics, spinning to check the backseat of his Baby. "Oh, no, Baby, what did he do to you?" I look at Sam, who just rolls his eyes. Dean and his Baby are the most ridiculous pair. When Dean drives her, she purrs and drives like a beauty. Anyone gets behind that wheel, and she protests, motor grumbling and providing no cushioning when we hit a bump. When Sam drives her, it's even worse. Probably because when Dean was in hell, Sam gave her an iPod jack and played country music. I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this car is alive.

"Let's go back to the motel, then you can clean her up enough for the ride home." I try my hardest to look apologetic, placing a hand on his arm. Sam doesn't bother, instead just looking out the window and waiting for Dean to get himself together.

"If she lights on fire, I'm gonna go back and kill his ass," Dean swears, gently running a hand over the dashboard. Finally, he puts her into drive and we go back to the motel.

I collapse onto the bed, before I even take my shoes off. My phone slips into my hands, automatically checking for messages. That stupid sweat lodge was exhausting because it was so dehydrating. One text from Aiden, asking how my Christmas was and what I'm doing over New Years, a few from Misty and Jenna asking, essentially, the same things, and one from Jacks, badgering me about if I was home to find out what Crowley's gift is yet.

_My Christmas was good. I got a ton of really nice gifts from my brothers. As for New Years, I don't know yet. Any plans?_  I send that text to Aiden, Misty, and Jenna.

_Nah, not home yet, but I should be getting back tomorrow night. Probably between ten and eleven. Midnight if we stop for both lunch and dinner._  My eyes close after sending Jacks the text and I rest my phone on my stomach to wait for the vibrate.

_Aw. I'm really curious about what he got you. It better be awesome._

_I totally agree. So not worth the wait if it isn't._

_Still, it's nice he got you something._

_He could've forgotten and is just stalling for time._

_But didn't you say he got Sam and Dean something._

_I did._

_How could he forget just you, then?_

_Fair point. Hey, did you see that my principal married that truancy officer?_

_I did. That's messed up._

_Wish I knew what I did to get on their bad side. I'll likely never know._

_They're so stupid. They have to know they can't get away with this, don't they?_

_They must. But what can I do?_  Now, you may be asking why I didn't tell him about my plan to transfer schools, but really, if it's not a done deal, how can I get his hopes up?

_Honestly, I have no idea._

_Hate to cut this short, but I've gotta get up early tomorrow for the ride back. I'll text you when I'm on the road._

_Alright. G'night._

_G'night._ I sit up, strip off my shoes, jeans, and flannel, and snake my bra out from under my t-shirt. I snap the phone charger into place, pull the blankets up, and let myself drift to sleep with one silent prayer.

"Please, no dreams about that guy puking up the stupid khan worm."


	28. Chapter 28

Okay, enough is enough. It's only three weeks into the new school year and the principal has already called me to her office five times, claiming each time that she's concerned about my performance in class. Now, just to be clear, I haven't missed a single assignment yet and have gotten A's on all the tests we took last week. So everything she's saying is absolute bullshit. This most recent call, however, has set my blood to boiling.

She called CPS, claiming that Sam and Dean had been abusing me. I had one bruise, on my knee… from where I had tripped on the stairs at school. I had to talk to an agent about it.

"You're not listening to me. I don't want to be taken from my brothers. They've never laid a hand on me. My mother was abusive. If they were hurting me, I'd be screaming it to the world. Seriously. I have one bruise. I tripped on the stairs, here, at school."

"I know it doesn't have any merit, but I still have to ask the questions. Thank you for putting up with me," the officer says, setting aside their notepad. "You can go back to class now." I storm out, glaring at the smirking woman.

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Not me, my husband. Your brothers killed his sister. But she's a shifter, so no one can prove it. When we found out you were in my school, we knew it was the perfect way to strike. Attack their sister."

I crook an eyebrow at the woman before practically singing, "well, now that I know, I guess I'll just have to tell my brothers. They can handle this their way." She goes pale, realizing just what she's done. But now, there's nothing she can do. That officer will never believe her. She's cried wolf one too many times. I turn away and stride back to class, taking my seat without a word to anyone. I pull out the packet I've carried with me for the entire month and set about filling it out. All I'll need is Dean's signature and then I can officially transfer schools. From what I can tell, harassment is a perfectly valid reason to request a transfer and, as seen in past situations, gets approved pretty quickly.

There is one thing about transferring that bothers me. Aside, of course, from having to start over at a new school yet again. It feels like I'm running from my problems. I know, logically, that this has gone too far and not transferring would be insanity, but still. But then, what can you do?

**Time jump: after school**

"Stupid police officers," Dean snarls. "Stupid principal. I hate that fucking bitch."

"I found out why she hates us. Apparently, you two killed her husband's sister." They both groan.

"Of course we did," Sam grumbles.

"Anyway, we have a fax machine, right?" I ask, reaching into my bag.

"Yes, why?" They lean forward, exactly like what you'd see in a movie. I slide the packet across to Dean.

"Sign the highlighted line and I can transfer to Lebanon High School. Get a clean start and get away from the bitch."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam's brows press together with concern, "Especially so soon after entering Kripke High School."

"Do you see any other way?" They look at each other meaningfully. "Aside from killing her," I snap, "We can't deal with them yet. It's too soon. We'll be the first suspects the police come running to."

"Fine," Dean huffs, "but once this dies down, we're taking care of them."

"Deal," I agree instantly. Seriously, it's not like I don't want to take them out, but I really don't want to be incarcerated for the rest of my life.

"We'll definitely have to drive you every day, then," Sam changes the conversation, flicking through the packet. Dean steals it back, scribbles his signature, and wanders off to the fax machine.

"I have a car, you know. I checked Lebanon's website. They have plenty of open parking spots. It's even advertised on their website. You'll have to drive me when we go to register for classes, but I'll just request a spot and drive myself for the rest of the year." He shifts uncomfortably. "That's what Luna's for, you know. Not to sit and rust in the garage. It'll be okay. Yes, I'll miss getting those fifteen minutes of family time every morning, but I don't see much of an alternative. I need to get there somehow when you're out on jobs."

"What about us on jobs?" Dean walks back in. "I faxed it. You should be set to transfer in a day or two. The packet says we'll get a phone call as soon as the paperwork goes through, but that you have to continue at Kripke until then."

"I know. Thankfully, we have the day off tomorrow. Teacher institute day. They still have to work, but we don't have to go to school. It'll probably be filed by noon tomorrow."

"So right around the time you'll wake up," Sam teases. I laugh.

"Exactly. As for what we were talking about," I turn back to Dean, "I thought it would be best if I drove myself to school. I have a car, I'm guaranteed a parking spot, and I can't take the bus if you are on a job."

"I hate it." Well, Dean, tell us how you really feel. "I hate it, but I understand it."

"I know," Sam sighs. "It really would be easier to let you drive. It's just a tough pill to swallow."

"But letting her drive every day means that when we're on a job, we don't worry about if she's getting to school safely."

"Then we're agreed. You can drive yourself to school."

**Time jump: the following breakfast (in the afternoon)**

The phone ringing pulls my eyes from the book.

"You're expecting a call, yes?" Crowley asks.

"Yep. Dean's supposed to get it." And, true to form, as soon as I say his name, he picks up the phone.

"Hello? Yes, this is him. That's wonderful news." He flashes a thumbs up sign to me. "Yes, I'll let her know. We'll see you tomorrow at noon. Thank you very much. You have a nice day, now." He hangs up. "You've officially transferred schools. Congratulations."


	29. Chapter 29

The next day, I get up at eight, make breakfast, eat, take a shower, get dressed, do my make up, and then actually take the time to dry my hair. Typically, I'd just throw it up and leave it as is, but I'm excited to change schools and actually want to look nice. I finger the edge of my sleeve. It ends just a little higher than I want it to, about a centimeter or two above my elbow, but it's enough to show the edges of my various scars. My jeans, however, are safe. The rips never go entirely through the material, always leaving just enough that the scars on my legs are invisible.

I never really think about the scars, unless I'm in a stressful situation. The ones on my legs end a few inches above my knees, allowing me to wear skirts and long shorts. On my arms, however, they go all the way to my elbow, so I have to be more picky about the shirts I wear, or put a jacket over it. I used to have scars that went above the neckline of my tank tops and covered my face, but the father of one of the girls who didn't survive was a plastic surgeon and didn't want me to live with them forever. He smoothed them down to pale, white lines that you can barely see, even if you know what to look for and where.

My hand brushes over the scar on my cheekbone before I tear myself away from the mirror and go to find my brothers. I get to register for classes today! I could never put into words how happy I am to be out of that other school.

The new principal greets us at the door along with another student.

"Ava," he smiles brightly, with a pudge and beard that make him almost look like Santa, "welcome to LHS. Which of you is Dean?"

"That'd be me," Dean extends a hand, "and this is my brother, Sam."

"Great to meet you all." He shakes Dean's hand, pumping it up and down exuberantly. He does the same to Sam and finally shakes mine, leaving my arm feeling as if it might fall off. He's a bit too happy for my tastes. "This is Sarah. She'll be taking Ava on a tour of the school while we work out the paperwork. That sound good to everyone?"

"Works for me," Dean agrees, nodding when I turn back to look at him. I'm not excited to have the tour alone, but, well, I'm no wilting daisy, so here we go.

"Same here." I smile at Sarah, "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too. Follow me, please." The tour is a whirlwind. The building itself is larger than Kripke High had been, but seems to have the same number of students. It's also all one story, so I don't have to do stairs all day- yay! While there is a general grouping by subject, the classes are fairly jumbled in some areas, so I expect it will take me a little while to get used to. We quickly arrive at the office where Dean is finishing signing some forms and Sam is flipping through a class catalogue. "Here you go. I'll see you around." The girl scurries away, looking a bit unnerved.

"How was the tour?" Gosh, I could just see this guy being the local mall Santa.

"Very nice, thanks."

"Well, I had your last class schedule sent over and placed you in all the same classes except the beginning strings. We don't offer that here, so you'll need to choose something else." He's on top of this all, isn't he? I bet this school runs like a well-oiled machine, aside from anything the kids manage to mess with.

"You offer a chef's class, correct?" Jacks had mentioned he was taking one. That's probably the cherry on this sundae: I'm at the same school as Jacks!

"That we do. There's even a class in the open period you had! Perfect," the man chuckles, "now I don't have to shuffle anything around." I laugh with him. "Just a moment." He leaves the room for a minute.

"How much paperwork did you have to do?"

"Not too much. A lot less than I had expected."

"That was a really short tour," Sam comments.

"Right?" I spin to him. "I don't remember a thing. It'll be okay, though. Someone will be able to help me."

"Well, here's your schedule," the principal hurries back into the room. As we look it over, he continues, "Now, it's entirely up to you of course, but there are three periods left in the day that you could attend. Just to get a jump start on catching up." I look at Dean but he just shrugs and looks at Sam. I roll my eyes, but turn to the taller brother.

"Why are you both looking at me?" Sam asks before realizing what we want. "I'd say it wouldn't be a bad idea. But, like he said, it is entirely up to you."

"Well, I do have a notebook and a pen with me, so I'll stay." I glance down at the schedule. Before I can finish finding the classes I'll be in, the principal speaks again.

"Great! I'll walk you there. You'll have Culinary Arts, Biology, and gym." He walks to the door. "School ends at two forty five, so you can pick her up then." He looks to me, "Come along." We end up clear across the school. His eyes peer in through the window on the door, making eye contact with the teacher over a sea of students working quietly at small tables in groups of four. She nods. "Go on and have a great afternoon." He walks away and I step into the classroom. My eyes light on a familiar figure. I smirk. Very few of the kids had looked up and he's facing away from me. As I move towards the teacher, I detour to pass his spot.

"Boo," I giggle and tap his shoulder as I walk past. He looks up, then his eyes go wide. Jacks' smile is brilliant when he realizes it's me and my transfer has been approved. I smile back and continue on to speak with the teacher. I have a feeling the rest of this semester is going to be great.


	30. Chapter 30

"What's your name?" the teacher asks as I approach.

"I'm Ava Winchester."

"Great. And have you ever taken a chef's class before?"

"I actually attended several at a junior college, but I find there's always something to learn from having different teachers."

"Quite true. So, since I see you and Jacks know each other, you can sit at his table," she gestures to the empty seat. "I'm assuming you know how to write out a recipe."

"It might not be the same format you're having them use, but yes, I do." Some people like to write all the ingredients on one side of the paper with the instructions right next to them, others split it top and bottom, and still others section off their paper with a section of all the ingredients at the top and then the ingredients written out again as they're needed among the instructions. Every person prefers something different. I like mine on index cards, but since I'll probably have to turn this in, I'll be using the first method with the ingredients spaced out to be next to the instructions where they're needed.

The teacher nods her approval and gestures for me to get to work. I take my seat next to Jacks.

"Hello, sous," I joke with a grin.

"Um," the kid across from me says, "he's actually our head chef."

"It's an inside joke," Jacks tells him. "When did your transfer get approved?"

"Just last night. I got to come in today to pick classes. They wanted me back in school as soon as possible." I start scribbling down the recipe. Apparently, we're making stir-fry today. Jacks finishes up writing the whole thing just as I finish the ingredients.

"How are you?" he asks.

"A bit bummed about having to start another school yet again, but it's for the best." I nudge his ankle. "Besides, now I'm in the same school as you."

"That's true." He smiles. The whole group is watching as I finish up writing. "Shall we cook?"

"We shall," I agree. Our group rises and soon, all the supplies are on the counter.

"Alright, let's split up the jobs. Alex, you take care of the rice noodles. Max, why don't you work on choppin' the veggies. Ava-"

"I'll get the sauce?"

"Yep. And I'll start the chicken." We break apart to do our jobs. Mine only takes a few minutes, so when I'm done, I put it in a bowl to the side and move back to Jacks, who is trying to help Max evenly chop the veggies.

"Would you-" I tilt my head at him when he stops. "Actually, I'll keep at this. You get to the chicken." I grab what looks to be the right amount of chicken, shred it, and measure it. What do you know? I'm over by barely half a handful. I put what we'll need in another small bowl, grab a knife, and help finish chopping.

"So this is where you go to school." Jacks laughs at my lame conversation starter.

"Yeah, darlin', and now, you go here, too." I glance up at him for a moment before looking back to the knife. Even though I looked away, my slicing stayed even. Phew.

"This a good teacher?"

"She's nice, decently knowledgeable. I don't think she went to culinary school, though." We finish prepping the food and move to the stove. Jacks takes over.

"Great," I sigh. Id been hoping to get a professional as a teacher, but this is better than nothing.

"She's good, I promise."

"I trust you." We toss some oil and the end of the ingredients into the pan. "You wanna do this part?"

"You can, if you like."

"I love making stir fry." I flip on the heat and grab a spatula. "Flipping it is the best part."

"You can flip it?"

"You can't?" I shoot Jacks a look, somewhere between disbelief and superiority. Finally, something I can do that he can't. "Think she'll let me?"

"Just go for it. It's cool enough she won't care." Jacks looks all too excited for this.

"Alright," I put down the spatula, "give me a bit of room." All three take a step back, letting me have some elbow room to start doing this. Like a chef on TV, I start gently moving the pan, working up to larger and larger movements before doing a small flip.

"That's it?" Max sounds disappointed.

"I'm not done," I huff. A few seconds later, I do a larger flip. Then, I do one more, flipping the food high in the air and catching it easily.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Jacks asks, awed.

"I took a class two summers back. The teacher loved to do this, so he made sure we all learned." I smile over at him. "I'll teach you, if you like."

"That would be awesome." He looks like a super excited two-year-old, minus the hopping and clapping. I flip the food again.

"Ava! We do not throw food."

"I didn't, ma'am. I flipped it." She stalks over, the whole class staring.

"Show me." So I do, making this one as large as I can, pushing my limit. Her eyebrows practically vanish into her hairline and she apologises, "nicely done. Sorry for yelling at you." She walks away and I turn bewildered eyes to Jacks. He shrugs.

"You get used to her." As we finish eating after it cools, the bell rings.

"What class do you have next?" Jacks stuffs his notebook in his backpack.

"Um… biology in room 43."

"I'm not going over that way, but my friend is actually in your class. He can take you."

"Where do you know him from?" We start to cross the hallway, but Jacks pauses and puts a hand on my arm.

"Hey, he's a good friend. You can trust him. We're on the football team together."

"I trust you," I assure him. It takes almost all my willpower, but I manage to block the stares. Once again, I'm the new kid.


	31. Chapter 31

Before he leaves, Jacks asks about my last class and it turns out we have gym together.

"I'll pick you up from bio and take you there, okay, darlin'?"

"Sounds good," I agree immediately. "See you next period."

"So," Tony, Jacks' friend, stuffs his hands in his pockets, "you're the new kid, then." I roll my eyes.

"What was your first clue?" He chuckles.

"Sorry, stupid comment. How do you know Jacks?" Wow, this kid has bad luck. Any other person, that would be a safe question. But it makes me go tense.

"I met him when I was about ten. I think he was eleven at that point."

"About the time he went to the hospital for the first time." Tony says it without malice, but I glare anyway.

"Don't tell anyone, got it?" Maybe not the best way to make friends. Still, I want a clean start.

"I would never, I promise." He taps my arm and gestures to a door. I step inside and speak for a moment with the teacher. Yet again, he places me by someone I 'know.' So I end up sitting right behind Tony. All we do is take notes and the period is a drag, but it ends eventually.

"So, you're friends with Tony?" You know that girl everyone finds annoying but is popular because she's beautiful? That seems to be Christa.

"A friend of Jacks' is a friend of mine," I deflect, not letting her bother me. That question was asked in a fake-nice voice.

"How long have you known him?" Oh, so that's what this is. She wants to warn me off whoever I'm interested in. I bet she's working her way through the football team, minus who she's already hooked up with. I force away a bored sigh. High school is so… predictable. I'd much rather be hunting.

"I've known him for seven years, why?"

"I just wanted to know." She skips away, pausing to talk to Jacks as she passes him, her smile flirty. I roll my eyes.

"Well, she's nutty," I mumble.

"She's working her way through all the sports teams. Just ignore her," Tony advises from my left.

"Plannin' on it." I smile over at him. "Thanks for helping me earlier."

"Like you said, a friend of Jacks' is a friend of mine."

"Good to know. Now go, don't be late for class." The tall boy waits a moment more, making eye contact with Jacks. Another eye roll. I watch as he falls in step with two other kids before turning to Jacks.

"I can handle myself in a hallway, you know. You guys don't have to hand me off to one another."

"I know, darlin', I know. But remember that fight I mentioned? Those kids just came back and they're trouble. Everyone's on edge. No one's walkin' alone, even the loners." Fair enough.

"I hadn't noticed that. Sorry."

"You didn't know, don't apologize. I should've mentioned it so you wouldn't think we were treatin' you like a child." He slips an arm around my shoulders. "Now then, we should be gettin' to class." He guides me to the coach's office, introduces me, then leaves to change. The coach hands me a uniform for tomorrow and leads me to the gym, where he points out the attendance sheet and informs me that as long as I remain active for the entire period and do well on the state-required tests, I'll have no trouble passing his class. He sits down in his seat, pulls out a book, and settles in for the period. Kids filter in, check off their names, and wander off to "exercise."

"Hey, Ava." Jacks creeps up behind me, "do you want to spot for us today?" I turn to see him and two more guys waiting for me.

"Sure," I agree, glad to not have to sit around doing nothing for another period. "What are your names?"

"Frank."

"Will."

"Nice to meet you." Talk my ear off, why don't ya. Jacks glances at the coach, then turns around and squats down.

"Come one, then, darlin'." I laugh and climb onto his back. He carries me over to the weight area, which is across the gym. Some kid pushes a button on a stereo and music fills the room.

"Ugh, pop," I groan.

"You don't like this stuff?" Frank looks confused.

"No, I prefer rock. Which might actually be a genetic trait seeing as everyone in my family adores it." I hesitate before adding, "Some pop artists are truly talented, I just can't get into their style of music."

"That's fair." Will busies himself with setting up his weights. Jacks puts me down and does the same. The rest of the period passes mostly in silence as they work out. It's just shy of a half hour later when Jacks gives me another piggy back ride to the locker room hallway. He leaves me outside and goes in to change. Just after everyone is inside, I hear a yell down the hall.

"Hey, give that back!" There's loud laughter and more shouting, then a soft thud, like a book hitting the ground. Just as Jacks walks out, a group of kids sprint past, laughing hysterically. We hurry over to where they came from only to find a small, fairly scrawny kid looking forlornly at the ceiling.

"What happened?" I move next to him, trying to see what he does.

"They took my book and put it up there." I look over at Jacks and he steps up.

"What tile?" The boy points. "We'll get it down for you. Ava?"

"Works for me." He kneels for a moment and I settle onto his shoulders. Then, my head is practically hitting the tiles. I press it up and glance around. The book is a little ways off, definitely out of my reach. I move my hands to Jacks' shoulders and press a silent message into them. 'Left three, forward one.' He follows my silent instructions, our silent communication designed for when I couldn't speak and the candy stash had been moved. I reach in, grab the book, and signal that I want down.

"The Odyssey?"

"It's for class," he looks at the book in his hands, then back at us. "How did you do that? You didn't even talk."

Jacks laughs and tells him, "we may have done this once or twice." Jacks slings an arm around my shoulder, "C'mon, darlin', let's get you home. Your brothers pickin' you up?"

"They better be." I start to pull out my phone.

"Why don't you have 'em get you later. I'm havin' some of the guys over. You should come."

"You're having "the guys" over," I repeat dryly.

"I haven't seen you since New Years, darlin'. Come hang out. They won't mind." It has been a while since we could hang out.

"Alright, you win."

"Always do," Jacks laughs. I text Dean to let him know and as soon as he confirms, I tell Jacks I'm good to go.


	32. Chapter 32

Jacks informs me that he walks to school every day. I guess he lives just a few blocks away. He leads us to the right after we leave the school.

"The others are probably already there by now."

"Oh, hey, did I tell you?" I grin up at him. "Crowley's gift finally arrived. He got me a cello."

"Really? So you don't have to stop playing now that you transferred."

"Yep," I smile, remembering when it arrived. "It was really thoughtful of him."

"Will you be having a teacher, then?"

"No, I'll just make Aiden teach me." His hand tightens slightly on my right shoulder.

"Take a right here, darlin'." The house looms over me, three stories high, pure white, and definitely more expensive than I want to imagine. Sometimes I forget Jacks' mom's family owns a grocery store chain. It's only in Kansas, but is wildly popular. "It'd be nice of him to work with you."

"It'll probably be just over the summer because, well, school." I laugh and add, "besides, I haven't even asked him yet."

Jacks opens the door, saying, "True."

"Hey, man!" A voice bellows from our left, "Who you got with you?" We walk into a kitchen where a group is seated at a table, watching us expectantly.

"Go ahead and put your stuff with my bag." Jacks finally moves his arm and drops his backpack. "This is Ava. She transferred to LHS today."

"Oh, cool. Nice to meet you," one of them perks up. "I'm Jordan."

"She's here because?" Another crosses his arms defensively.

"Because she's my friend and I invited her."

"You met her today!" I roll my eyes at first, but then I feel Jacks start to tense next to me. I turn slightly, so I can see him clearly.

"I've known her for years." His voice has dropped, echoing with anger.

"Jacks, you're holding your breath," I murmur. His eyes flash to mine and he takes a deep breath.

"Sorry," he says to his friend, "I didn't mean to yell." He turns then to whisper in my ear, "thank you," barely loud enough to hear. I nod.

"I'm sorry, too. I was being a jerk," his friend responds before looking at me. "Let's start over. I'm Andrew. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," I smile, relaxing only when Jacks does. He goes around the room and introduces everyone. Frank, Will, and Tony are all there. Jacks pulls out snacks and serves drinks. About a half an hour later, he leaves to use the bathroom.

"How did you do that?" Jordan asks, five sets of curious eyes locked on me.

"What?"

"You calmed him down. Easily."

"Um… yeah. I did. You guys don't?"

"Not that well."

"What do you do?"

"Just, tell him to take a deep breath or step out for a minute, I guess."

"That's not a good idea. You've got to take away the anger, not make it more prominent."

"Give me your phone for a minute," Jordan demands. Hesitantly, I pass it over to him. He taps away for a moment, then hands it back. "That's my number. I texted myself so I have yours. I'm going to share it with the rest of the group. Then we can have a group chat for if we ever need advice or help."

"Oh, yeah, of course," I agree immediately. "That's a good idea." The conversation drifts away just before Jacks' footsteps alert us to his return. A while later, just before Dean arrives, he asks to see my whole schedule. Apparently, I have psychology with him, English with Jordan, math with his friend Drake, and lunch with all of them.

"Being friends with you has given me a built in friend group, hasn't it?" The whole group laughs.

"Yes, it has." A rumbling purr suddenly sounds outside the window. "My God, whose car is that?" The whole group crowds the window, trying to see Baby.

"Dean's," I grin and lead them to the door. "She's a 1967 Chevy Impala. Her name is Baby."

" _That_ is in your garage and you drive a Beetle?"

"Hey! Luna is a great, reliable car!"

"Still."

"No one but Dean drives Baby," I grumble.

"Oh, so you picked a car you knew would annoy him in the hopes that you'd get to drive Baby." I look up at the ceiling. "You did! You thought he'd let you drive her to convince you to pick a different car."

"Maybe. Didn't work. But Luna is mine, so I love her."

"But now you don't get a muscle car."

"I'll just wait for Charlie to get in another accident. She's been in three this year alone. She's bound to total her car soon enough. I give her Luna, then steal Dean's project car. He's always got one."

"And what car is that?"

"A 1966 Pontiac GTO." I smirk conspiratorially. "I gotta go. See you tomorrow!" I run to the car and slide in the back.

"Good day?" Dean asks, glancing into the mirror.

"The very best."


	33. Chapter 33

The next two months fly by. During the week, I go to school, Jacks' house, then home and on the weekends, we go on hunts, cleaning up ghosts, vampires, sirens, and even a djinn over Spring Break. Charlie did end up totaling her car and I suckered Dean into letting me have the Pontiac. Today is the first day I get to drive it to school and I love it.

The engine growls louder than Baby and with the glossy red paint job, I've gotten plenty of stares just minutes into the drive to school. She handles like a dream. And yes, of course she has a pet name. I call her Sugar. I didn't even have to try for that one, it just popped out the first time I slid behind the wheel. Every time I start her up, I get a little thrill in my stomach and I think it's love.

The school parking lot has tons of kids milling around in it and every one of them turns to watch me pull in. Why wouldn't they? Sugar is loud enough to hear from a block away and she's beautiful.

"Oh, my God."

"That's beautiful."

"Where did you get it?"

"Where can I get one?" I just laugh and walk through the crowd to Jacks.

"I demand a ride in her."

"Ah," Jordan leans around him. "We all demand a ride in that car."

"Sugar is fucking sweet, isn't she?" I turn and lean against him, looking at her paint jo shining in the spring sun.

"You're ridiculous." He slings an arm around my shoulder. "Let's get to class before we're late."

Classes that day are dull. All I want to do is get back to Sugar and drive her. That might sound crazy, but- wait. No, it doesn't sound crazy. Who wouldn't spend all day wanting to drive the dream car they now own? No one, that's who. After school and a few hours at Jacks' house doing homework with the guys, I drive home to make my brothers dinner.

"Hey, Ava," Sam takes a seat at the table with his laptop.

"Hey. How's your day been? Find anything interesting for this weekend?"

"Maybe. It might end up being a job that'll take a while."

"What is it?"

"Looks like a werewolf pack, but I'm not entirely positive."

"Separate cars, then?"

"Works for me." He taps away. "Whatcha making?"

"I thought we'd have Italian tonight. We've got homemade pasta and a meat sauce with fresh parmesan. And, yes, there's a salad, too. Balsamic vinaigrette for the dressing."

"Sounds delicious," Dean wanders into the room, "and smells even better."

"Hungry?"

"Always. Whatcha got, Sammy?" Sam fills him in while I plate the food and pass it out, giving Dean extra pasta and no salad, Sam a plate of half salad, half pasta, and my plate mostly pasta with a small salad. I stick the cheese in the middle of the table and take a nice handful for my pasta. I quite love cheese on my food.

"You know how we don't normally hunt humans?" Dean chokes on his bite of pasta at Sam's question.

"Say that again?"

"I know we don't normally hunt humans, but I kinda really want to make an exception for this guy."

"Why?"

"Says here, he killed upwards of twenty kids, all girls, all under 13, and all had been tortured and raped before being killed." I freeze, fork in my pasta.

"I agree the guy should die, but we don't kill humans, man. We just don't."

"Still, I think it's worth considering. Or we give his name to someone who will kill him."

"How is he even getting out of jail?"

"He got parole. He's served seven years of his sentence and it's about four months to his eight year mark, when he'll be released."

"How does a guy like that earn parole?"

"I guess he convinced them he's changed. But you're right, it's weird. Maybe he made a deal?"

"Yeah," I choke. "A plea deal." I drop my fork and run out of the room. The mail is in the library and I take a minute, digging through it. Dean and Sam stop in the doorway, watching me search. Sure enough, there's a letter addressed to me from a month ago. A notice of his parole hearing; the only chance I had to make sure he couldn't get out. I can't even appeal his parole. The court did their job, sent the letter. If I'd wanted him kept away, I would've had to go to the hearing. As it is, he'll be kept in Dallas, Texas, where he was incarcerated, for the next eight years, with an order to keep at least one thousand feet away from me, my car, my house, and my school. I have no doubt he'll break both those rules and be here, in Kansas, soon.

"Shit," I whisper.

"It's him," Dean sits next to me, "isn't it? The guy Sam wants to hunt."

"Yeah, it is." I wipe at the tears streaming down my face. "So he's getting out in August, then."

"He is. But he can't leave Dallas." Sam crouches in front of me, a hand on my leg.

"He's a serial killer. You think that he cares about the law?" They make eye contact.

"He breaks one law, does anything to try to get to you, and we'll kill him," Dean swears.

"Thank you." I swipe at my face again. "I'm, um… I'm going to go for a drive. I just need to- to get out."

"Okay," Dean agrees softly, "Just drive safe and come home soon. Call us if you need anything."

"I will," I promise.

The next day, at school, I'm a zombie. I'd been out until almost midnight driving and had several nightmares. Finally, at lunch, Jacks speaks up.

"Darlin', what is wrong with you today? You're actin' all wonky."

"I didn't sleep well. Got some bad news."

"Could be worse," Jordan says, in an attempt, I believe, to console me. "You could be the poor girl who survived the Highway Rapist. It was on the news last night that he's getting out for parole." My eyes flash to him, anger simmering under them, but fear is the predominant emotion on my face. "Oh, shit," he whispers. Jacks leans across and grabs my hands.

"Was that really you?" I nod slowly. "But you don't have any scars." He looks utterly confused. Instead of responding verbally, I slide my three-quarter sleeve up to reveal the patchwork he left on my left arm.

"And his mark?" Andrew asks. I run a finger down my right cheekbone, turning to let him get a better look. I don't have makeup on today, so it's actually visible.

"Bad day, then, yesterday?" Jacks whispers, eyes wide and his knuckles turning white.

"The very worst," I breathe. Then, I'm pulled into a bone crushing hug.


	34. Chapter 34

"How long is it until he gets out?"

"I'll be just about to turn eighteen. It's about a month before my birthday." Jacks and I are sitting on Sugar's hood, parked out by a field, just like I sometimes do with my brothers. It's been two weeks since I got the news. Long enough for my nightmares to die down enough to be manageable. I haven't had any bad enough to land me back in the hospital, but I did have to call and explain the situation to my doctor. Over the weekend, Sam found a hunt for me to try "solo." They were there, every step of the way, but I did it entirely on my own. It wasn't too difficult, a ghost, but it did boost my confidence.

Jacks takes a sip of his coke and asks, "what are you goin' to do?"

"I have no clue." I rake my fingers through my hair for the millionth time. "I guess i need to wait and see. He's made it perfectly clear before that he has no intention of leaving me alive. I'm unfinished business to him. But I don't know if he's willing to risk going back to jail and finishing out his sentence just to come for me."

"If he does come after you?"

"I want to say I'll stand and fight. That I won't let him get to me. But, honestly?" I take a sip of my soda and sigh. "I think I'll flashback, right then and there. Go into panic mode and freeze. I'll either end up back in the hospital or holed up at home, the two places I know I'm safe."

"You will have the entire school standing behind you, Ava. You're not alone in this." He lets his fingers curl through mine, his callouses rough in the places mine aren't, formed through hours of strength training every day while mine are from knives and guns. "You have the football, baseball, basketball, wrestlin', and archery team standing with you. If he tries to get to you, he''ll have to go through us."

"Jacks-" I choke, warm tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I knew he cared, but I didn't know they all did.

"Ava, you've gone to our school for almost the entire semester, and in that semester you have helped almost everyone with somethin'. Homework, cookin', advice, or bullies. My friends will protect you not just because you're my friend, but because they legitimately care about you. You aren't alone anymore. I promise." We fall silent, but I know he can feel my thanks when I curl into his side, snuggling in with my arms clutching tight around him.

Nearly three hours later, with barely a word said in all that time, we get back into Sugar. Normally, I would've dropped him off at his house, but no one wants me alone at the moment, and I really don't want to be alone, so he drove to the bunker before we left. He sits quietly in the passenger seat, bobbing his head in time to a song by the Guess Who. I can't help but smile.

"When do you think those two will admit they're hot for each other?" Jacks nods to where Dean and Cas are standing, heads close together and bodies barely inches apart. I don't know what they're talking about, but they almost seem to be arguing. Sam appears next to my window.

"Should we place bets?" The mischief on my taller brother's face reminds me that even though he is the "serious" one, he's still a goof. I giggle.

"Why not? I put twenty on six months," Jacks agrees immediately.

"That fast? Not Dean. I'd say eighteen months. Minimum." That's Sam's bet.

"But you're forgetting Cas. Although, Sam does have a point. I say they get together somewhere between your two bets. One year."

"Let me write this down." Sam whips out his phone and pulls up his notes app. "Whoever is closest wins. Jacks is saying November of this year, Ava is saying April next year, and I've got November next year. If it takes over, say, two years, we start a new pool."

"Fair."

"Agreed." We shake on it, then sit back and watch the two love-birds talk. It takes nearly five minutes for them to realize we're sitting there. Dean starts to stalk over and Jacks leaps from the car.

"That's my cue to head out. See you guys!" He jumps into his car and drives away with a small wave.

"What are you two sniggering about?"

"Nothing," Sam and I chorus, still smirking and trying to control our laughter.

"I'll pretend I believe that." He looks to me and I see, not for the first time, the mark that Hell has left on my brother. There's rage and pain and emptiness in the green eyes we all share. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm doing better. Jacks told me that the whole school has my back, which I really didn't expect but it's so sweet of them. Actually makes me feel a little better about having to go back tomorrow."

"Good."

"You know if you ever don't feel up to going or aren't feeling safe enough there, we'll call you in sick. Have you spoken to your doctor yet? Since the nightmares stopped?"

"No, I haven't." I give Sam a meaningful look, "you know I can't miss any more school without a doctor's note. I appreciate the gesture, though. I'll call him tomorrow after school and ask him what he thinks."

"I'm pretty sure he'd write you whatever notes you need to stay out of school if you just asked."

"I know. But it's just not worth it. I need to finish this year, at the very least. I'd like to finish all of high school, but we all know how likely that is."

"You're finishing school," Dean growls. "Team Free Will does not need another high school drop-out."

"Team Free Will?" This is a new story. I crawl up to the windshield and my brothers sit further down the hood, turned so they can see me.

"When we thought there was going to be an apocalypse, we were discussing what that means. If Hell won, it'd be chaos and destruction. If Heaven won, it'd be Paradise, but both would cost people their free will. So we voted against the apocalypse and named ourselves Team Free Will- one high school drop-out, one ex-blood junkie, and Mr. Comatose, aka Cas. Let's not add another drop-out."

"So a psych ward frequent visitor is preferable?" I smirk at him and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. Just don't drop out. I still regret it."

"You could get a job as a mechanic anywhere you go. Both of you could get jobs if you wanted. You just prefer credit card scams and hustling pool 'cause you're lazy."

"Speaking of which, we need to decide what we're doing this summer. One long hunting tour around the country with short breaks to stop back here and switch out clothes or do we stay and keep on as we're doing, just short weekend trips?" Sam, ever the planner, brings up this point.

"I'm down for one long road trip. I didn't really have any plans, anyway. Only rule is that we stay out of Dallas."

"Deal."

"Sounds good."

"Teach me to play pool?" I ask Dean, who grins.

"Hell yes. Come on." We scurry off and Sam shakes his head before moving off to try to find us a hunt for the weekend. Time to see if I can survive these last six weeks of school.


	35. Chapter 35

I do actually manage to survive the last six weeks of school without another hospital trip. Having Jacks around has helped a ton, as well as living with my brothers. It probably doesn't hurt that they signed me up for taekwondo classes. I've been going four days a week for two hours a day and am already a green belt, probably because I already kind of know how to fight. I've also been meeting up with Aiden on Wednesday nights, after taekwondo and homework, for hour long cello lessons, which have been tons of fun. We're keeping to our current pattern for another two weeks, hunting only on the weekends, so I can continue to study lore before we go on our "road trip."

Speaking of, I'm amazingly excited for the trip, although being stuck in a car with both my brothers for an entire summer isn't all that thrilling. I've been informed to expect nights that we just pull off to the side of the road and sleep there rather than getting a motel. Thankfully, Sam thought ahead and got a little blow-up mattress for the back seat so there'll be room for all three of us, albeit a bit cramped. We're packing just about every weapon we own, seeing as you never know what you might run across. With all the weapons, we'll barely have room for our duffles in the trunk, so I'm downsizing my wardrobe quite a bit, although I'm still packing a fair amount more than my brothers.

We'll be doing a dry-run this weekend, which we're prepping for now. We're packing everything we intend to bring over the summer, just to make sure it all fits comfortably. And, much to my chagrin, we'll be testing the car mattress. I have to find a way to make a pair of jeans, leggings, four t-shirts, four button-downs, three different skirts, two dresses, a pantsuit, underwear, bras, socks, a pair of boots, nice sandals, a pair of flats, a pair of heels, a pair of dress shoes, a pair of converse, and a pair of tennis shoes all fit in one duffel bag. Plus, I'm bringing all my make-up and hair care supplies. All of that, and it still seems like only the bare minimum to me. I'm tempted to screw it all and only bring the jeans, t-shirts, button-downs, boots, and tennis shoes.

Let's just compare real quick to what my brothers both pack: a pair of jeans, four t-shirts, four button-downs, underwear, socks, a suit, a pair of boots, and a pair of dress shoes. Sam brings his shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush, shaving cream, and a razor and Dean just steals what Sam brings. It's so not fair being a girl sometimes. But it does make it easier to hustle pool. I always bring in a hundred more bucks than Dean would in a night. I've actually gotten really good at it, although Sam and Dean usually end up having to make the guy back off after I take the cash. Unlike when Dean hustles, they don't just let me walk away with the cash, they always try to take it back. I think it's because they think I'm so weak, but whatever. Once Sam and Dean step in, the guys back right off.

Today, we're packing to head out and clean up a ghoul in a small town in Georgia. Dean wants to try to drive through the night, so he's sleeping now and Sam will drive when he needs rest. I don't want to say anything, but they're so going to wack out their sleep schedules. Still, it's a full nine hour drive, so it shouldn't be that bad- except that we won't be getting a motel when we get there.

I glance down at the pile of clothes sitting on my bed next to the duffel. Time to try. I heard somewhere that rolling your clothes saves space, so instead of folding, I start rolling. The pile shrinks down to something that looks like it might actually fit in the medium-sized bag. I stick my flats, sandals, heels, and dress shoes on the bottom along the edge, then pile the clothes in neatly and, shockingly, have plenty of room to fit my makeup bag and hair products. The converse I have no trouble squeezing in on top, the tennis shoes fit nicely in a small gap on the side, but the boots give me a bit of trouble. Eventually, though, they fit. Maybe I should get a smaller bottles for my hair stuff. That'd save a fair amount of space.

"Ava? You finish packing everything yet?"

"Yeah," I respond to Sam, "I'll be out in a minute. I just need to zipper it." Shockingly, I manage to do so in less than thirty seconds and with minimal struggling. Sam is standing right outside my door when I open it. "I need to get smaller shampoo bottles."

"And maybe ditch some of the shoes. You definitely don't need the extra boots." I groan. "I know, you like them and just want to be prepared. You do know, whatever we need to buy that doesn't fit, we can just throw out? It's not like we're spending our hard-earned money on it." A comment like that? From my strict, rule-following brother?

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine, why?" He asks with a confused look.

"Just, you never advocate us using those cards. You always ask if we have enough cash first."

"Yeah, well, when it comes to part of the job, I figure it's okay to use them to get a costume or two." I laugh, walk back to the bag, and start taking stuff out.

"What do you have in there?" Dean appears at the doorway while I'm trying to pick up the lighter duffel.

I sigh and start to list, "Jeans, four t-shirts, four button-downs, leggings, three skirts, a pantsuit, a pair of heels, a pair of dress shoes, a pair of converse, and a pair of tennis shoes. Then my makeup essentials and a palette that has everything I need to make myself look older or younger. My hair stuff is in there, too."

"Why three skirts, the dress and the pantsuit?"

"One pencil skirt that matches the suit, so I don't have to pack another suit, one in case I need to blend in with kids my age, and one in case I need to look nice. The dress is in case we need to get into a club or something and the pantsuit is in case I need to look professional."

"Take the third skirt out. If you need to look nice, use the pencil. If we need to get into a club, we'll buy you a dress, so that can come out, too. Take out the pants that match the suit. If need be, you can just wear the skirt or buy a pair of pants." I do as Dean says, then he asks, "Why do you need the heels, converse, and tennis shoes? I understand the dress pair."

"The heels went with the dress, the converse so I can blend in with kids my age, and the tennis shoes to work out."

"You don't need the heels. The converse I understand and the tennis shoes are up to you. I don't exercise, so I don't bring them, but Sam does." It doesn't seem like I took all that much out, but I guess I did, because the duffel zippers much more easily and I can pick it up easily. "You should also have a smaller bag that has two or three changes of clothes and a spare pair of shoes, a bunch of cash, and some basic living supplies. When we travel, keep your ID's and cards in there, as well as your journal and some cash. It's your go-bag. Keep some empty space in there to stick weapons that'll kill whatever you're running from."

"I'll put that together when we get back. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, we do need to hit the road."

"Are we going to stop for some cash tonight?"

"It might not be a bad idea, considering this won't be an area we pass through this summer," Sam agrees rather quickly.

"So we have a little extra for the trip?" Dean clarifies.

"Exactly," I nod like a bobble head. Dean agrees and we load up the trunk. There is, quite surprisingly, enough room for another small backpack that would act as my go-bag. We pile into the car. Later tonight, I bring in four hundred dollars (from two separate bars) and the next day, we take out the ghoul with minimal injuries (no stitches or dislocated joints). The mattress was no five-star bed, but it's better than some other places I've slept, so we'll take it. Only a few more days until we leave for the entire next month and a half and I couldn't be more excited!


	36. Chapter 36

I'd forgotten how beautiful Texas was. The heat, though quite humid, is enjoyable for me. I've never really enjoyed the cold. This was our last hunt of the trip and Sam and Dean are just finishing dropping off the surviving victim of the rakshasa, a spirit that feeds on the flesh of humans. I'm cleaning the brass knives we used on it. Oddly enough, this motel has a little porch area out the back of our room. The seat is comfortable and no one else is outside, so yes, I'm sitting on the porch cleaning the weapons we used to kill a monster. Maybe not the wisest idea, but like I said, it's beautiful out. Sue me.

"You almost done?" Dean takes the seat next to me.

"Just finishing up the last one. What's up?"

"We planned for two more days, right?"

"Yep. This one was easier than we anticipated."

"What do you want to do? Go home or stay here for another few days?"

"I'd like to stay, if that's alright with you."

"It works for me. Sam and I were thinking we'd go to the bar tonight, anyway."

"Okay. Would you mind if I stayed here?"

"Need some alone time?" I nod. "No problem. Just stay safe."

I roll my eyes and parrot the rules at him, "lock the door and shoot anything that moves, no questions asked."

"Good. We'll see you later, then." Dean vanishes inside to change, as Sam just finished doing. My taller brother takes the chair Dean just left.

"Are you sure you'll be alright alone tonight? You did have a nightmare last night."

"It was nothing compared to what I used to have. Besides, I don't plan to sleep for a little while. I'm going to update my journal and maybe call Jacks and Aiden and the rest of them."

"If you're sure. Just remember-"

"Lock the door and shoot anything that moves, I know." Sam laughs.

"Stay safe, little sister."

"You, too, Sammy." The smile on my brother's face at the nickname makes my heart swell. The first time I'd called him that, he just about crushed my ribs from the hug. Being allowed to call him that, something only Dean is able to do, really cements my place as their sister. He stands, ruffles my hair, at which I balk, then walks inside, yelling for Dean to hurry up. They disappear out the front door, but only leave once they hear me turn the deadbolt. This isn't the first time I've taken a night to stay in the motel rather than hustle or relax with them.

Last night's nightmare could have been so much worse. It was our third night in Texas. Despite the fact that we're in Houston, not Dallas, the stress got to me. We're too close to his prison for my taste. Still, I do love Texas and want to stay the extra two reasons for this, that I haven't told my brothers, are first, to help myself realize that I'm safe at home. If he can't reach me here, he can't reach me there. My second reason, as I mentioned, is because I love it here. Finally, my third reason is to write and deliver a letter to the man who rescued me. I grab my journal and move to the porch. I set a pen to paper and start to write the hundredth letter I've attempted to Ten.

_Ten,_

_This letter, I know, is long overdue. But I've been here in Texas and it finally feels like the right time to send one of these. I've written hundreds over these past eight years. I don't think there's words to accurately explain my gratitude. You, of course, know some of my history, with my mother and stepfather, and medical diagnosis. After I was taken back to Kansas, I was eventually placed with a woman named Joanie. Because of you and her, I was able to discover cooking and intend to be a chef. I learned that I'm not actually schizophrenic, that I was simply a child looking for attention._

_So what if I've been in and out of the hospital, I am so much stronger than I was before. Even Joanie's death this past year, though heartbreaking, lead me to my brothers and another step in my healing process. If you hadn't stayed those two days in the hospital, I know I wouldn't have lasted the next year until I met Joanie. The houses I was placed in were intended to make me feel safe; every family had a member who looked similar to you in stature. None of them were able to handle my nightmares and flashbacks, but because they had someone like you in them, they were able to calm me down enough that I didn't need to be sedated._

_I don't know if they've told you anything about me. All I know about you is that you actually live in Houston and spent some time in prison. I was told you got out a year ago, about the same time I met my brothers. I hope your adjustment period went well and that me mentioning that wasn't immensely rude. I hope this letter finds you and all of the family in good health._

_Thank you. Thank you for saving my life, for giving me a chance, for knocking his teeth out, for staying with me when I clung to you, for testifying. Thank you for everything you did for me. I could never say it enough. Thank you._

_Ava_

I fold up the letter, slip it into an envelope, and write just his name on the front. Ten, as a mob enforcer and kingpin's wife's bodyguard, will likely be out of his house tonight. And yes, the way I learned what he does is utterly illegal. Then again, what he does is utterly illegal, so it's fair, right? I stick the letter into my jacket pocket, slip a knife into my boot, a gun at my waistband, and a angel blade in my sleeve. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Then I grab my key and walk out of the room. Ten is staying with some friends about a mile away.

The walk is long enough for me to start to get antsy and nervous. Somehow, I manage to get myself to open the mailbox, put the letter in, and walk away. I tip my head down as I walk away, glancing out the corner of my eye at the car that pulls into Ten's driveway. It's too much to hope that they didn't see me put the letter in, but I keep walking quickly. Ten gets out of the passenger side door. He's gotten bigger and has some more tattoos. I look back at him and for a moment, I think he might recognize me, but I step up my pace anyway.

"Hey," he bellows. I duck my head and keep going. If he wanted to, he could run to catch me, but he apparently decides that a letter isn't something to get worked up over. Whoever is driving, however, thinks differently, and follows me for a little while. He never gets out of the car and never gets a look at my face. I head into the bar I know Sam and Dean are at rather than giving away our motel. They think it's weird that I decided to show up anyway, but don't ask too many questions, just accepting my odd choice. After all, they've done weirder.


	37. Chapter 37

He's out. He's been released. The first day he was out, there was an assembly at school, discussing updated safety procedures. No one without an ID would be able to get in the front doors. Even students would have to show theirs. There's a security guard standing in the foyer at all times. Everyone enters through the front doors and no one leaves for lunch, which had previously been allowed. Additionally, no one would be allowed to leave and return unless a parent was with them. All windows now have screens on them and can only be opened a few inches. Doors are required to be closed. If we receive word he has left Dallas, they will be required to lock the doors, too.

I no longer go to anyone else's house. In fact, I had Cas go to each of my friends and take their memory of where I live. They remember that it's super cool and I have a secret room, but they have no clue how to get here and don't remember that it's a bunker. If he shows up, I don't want them to be able to give him any information on where I am. The bunker is my safe place. Someone is always at home with me, whether that's one of my brothers, Cas or Crowley, or the recently moved-in Charlie. Gabe even pops in from time to time. Put him and Sam in the same room and chaos ensues. I can't decide if I think they would be a cute couple or if I need to keep them far, far away from each other. Jacks, Dean, and I also have a bet on when they'll end up together. Dean still doesn't know about our "Destiel" bet.

Today, however, is the last straw. It's three weeks after my eighteenth birthday and a letter has arrived addressed to me in his handwriting. I sent it to the police department, but given that none of his fingerprints are on it and he hasn't sent any mail from his mailbox, we can't prove it's from him. The letter vows to finish what was started. It's going into the case file. If more arrive, he'll be watched, but for now, they can't do anything. That's how I find myself standing here, go-bag slung over my shoulder, bus ticket in hand, and warding spells sent from Rowena around my neck. Cas and Gabe won't be able to find me and with my phone turned off, neither will any humans. For this first week, I'm going to hop between busses until I'm certain that Dean and Sam aren't on my trail, then start hunting.

I know my nightmare tonight will be wicked, so I've packed my sleeping pills and throat medication. I called my doctor and told him I was going off the grid and, although it typically goes against the rules, I'm a special case, so they gave me a year-long supply of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. Most prescriptions only last six months. This first bus will take me to Chicago. Then, I'm heading back south to Indianapolis, then Nashville, Atlanta, and finally Houston. After a full day and night in Houston, I'll start hunting, sticking to small towns that I can get to quickly by bus. My brothers don't have all the names on my ID's memorized and, thankfully, they're fairly common names. I've looked up all of them and seen plenty of faces pop up, so simply tracking those names won't help. As long as I avoid using the credit cards, I'll be alright.

The cash I have for now will get me all the way to Houston. I have a new credit card Sam and Dean don't know about, so I'll be able to get a motel room without them knowing. I did leave a note, but if I'm not at least two hours away by the time they find out I'm gone, I'm dead meat. Thankfully, there's a secret exit not on the blueprints for the bunker that I somehow managed to find. Otherwise, I'd have never made it out of there unnoticed.

**Time jump: Three days. Location: Houston, Texas**

The last bus, from Atlanta to Houston, was utterly exhausting, but a good time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. I popped a pill to ensure I wouldn't dream and slept for a full twelve hours, half of the ride. I was up for eight hours, then slept for four, and woke up a half an hour before we arrived, courtesy of the start of a nightmare. The person next to me noticed I seemed distressed and woke me up before it caused any screaming, thankfully.

I throw my bag onto the bed at the third motel in the phone book. My brothers would expect me to go to the first, as they do when separated. I'm checked in under the name Winnie Jackson, a twenty-two year old from Saint Louis with only two credit cards. This is the name I intend to give to anyone in the hunter community, so it makes sense to start my journey under it.

I hop in the shower, reveling in the warm water and finally getting clean. After thoroughly blow drying my hair, I tie it into my classic two french braids. With a fresh outfit and new make-up, I feel a ton better. Once I brush my teeth, I gather my things and head to the laundromat. First things first: cleaning my small stash of clothes. I have a feeling I'll be spending quite a bit of time in various laundromats given that I can't fit much in my bag.

Once all my clothes are clean, I go back to the room and change into a more low-cut shirt. It's time to pick up a bit more cash. I'm hoping to get three hundred at each bar, something I've done plenty of times before. After glamming my make-up up a bit, I head out. My outfit of skinny jeans and a tank with boots is perfect for going to the bar. I'll wait an hour, pretending to drink a lot, then challenge some dumb college kids to a game of pool, being sure to giggle far too much. Once they win a game and are feeling confident, I'll pretend to be really upset that they won, then bet them three hundred it was just a fluke. This routine works every time and even though I know I could swing it at three to four different bars in one night, hitting too many draws a closer look I'd rather not invite.

With some fresh cash in my pocket, totaling eight hundred dollars in winnings, I wander down to where Ten is living. Just after he got out, Ten moved into an apartment of his own. Again, legal methods did not obtain this information, but I have to make sure he's safe. Ironic, given his stature, but still something I feel obligated to do.

"Hey, kid," I hear his gruff voice just as I pull out the index card with my number on it. "How'd you find where I live?"

"I hacked a few different databases," I respond, not turning around.

"There a reason you're here?"

"Aside from making sure you're safe, you mean?"

"You're the one who I should be checking up on, not the other way around."

"That's not how I work."

"I read your letter. You wanna come up, have something to drink?"

"I-"

"That was a question only to be polite. You're coming up. Not gonna let you run away again without making sure you're safe." He steps to the door and opens it and finally, I turn to face him. "Come on, I'm alone. No one up there to hurt you and you know I won't." Yeah, I do, if only because of the three knives and two guns I'm sporting. It wasn't easy to hide them, but I managed. Just as I remembered, he's immensely tall, hugely muscular, and has eyes that say he protects the innocents but wouldn't hesitate to kill someone who earned it. Eyes like Sam and Dean and every other hunter I've met. Eyes like mine. Shadows in them scream of a man who has seen horrible things, not the least of which includes me.

I step up and take the door from him, letting him through first. Yes, I know he won't hurt me, but I'm still not comfortable with someone at my back. We go up to his two-bedroom apartment and for the first time in eight years, I talk to the man who saved my life.


	38. Chapter 38

The second ghost wasn't anywhere near as difficult to take care of. There was only one option and I didn't even bother going to the house before digging up and burning the bones. After swinging by the warehouse where the guy died to make sure he was gone, I retreated to the motel to do some research on the ghoul. I figured one ghoul will be easier to solve than a nest of vampires.

Yeah, I was wrong. It wasn't one ghoul, it was three. A family. How wonderful. I came out of it with a nasty scratch on my side, but thankfully, it didn't need stitches. I was able to clean and bandage it on my own. Tomorrow, I'm going to start working on the vampires. Tonight, however, I'm in need of some more cash, so I've picked three bars, with a fair distance between them, to hustle at. I walk into the first one at about 10.

"You're not really drunk," a boy sits next to me, "and you're also not a rich college girl."

"I attend University of Houston. I'm studying political sciences." The kid- who also looks under 21- rolls his eyes at me.

"It's a good cover story, but I hustle for cash, too, so I know the lie when I see it." I turn and look him over, making sure not to drop the act.

"And why would you need to do that?"

"Well, getting out of foster care isn't exactly easy."

"Amen to that," I agree and tip my drink to him.

"What's your name?"

"I go by Winnie."

"I'm Alex. Don't worry, I'm not here for cash tonight. I'm just drinking. Sit and talk with me before you go and take those dummies' money?"

"Sure, but you're buying." He laughs and waves the bartender over. We're given another drink and he leans back.

"Why do you do this?"

"It's easy money for me. As long as I don't get caught, I don't have to worry about having cash. Plus, drunk college kids are easy to fool."

"Having a job would be a lot easier."

"Sure, if you lived in one place for longer than a week at a time."

"Fair point. What brought you to New Orleans?" I hesitate before going with a semi-truth.

"I'm looking into the missing persons. I have a friend who knew I was down south and asked if I could take a look around before they came down to work the case."

"Really?" Hope glints in his eyes.

"You know one of the victims," I state, not asking, but knowing it for fact.

"My brother, who recently turned 18, was taken."

"Younger?"

"Older. One year."

"He'd be about my age. Don't worry, I'm trying my hardest."

"Thank you." Alex shakes my hand, truly grateful. "Do you want to work together? Hustling, I mean. I won't ask for a cut, not since you're looking for my brother."

"If you want to. I'm hitting three bars tonight."

"Planning about an hour each?"

"Hopefully."

"Sounds good to me. It's not like I'll be doing anything other than drinking and pacing in my motel room." I nod, understanding, then wink, and let out a loud laugh.

"Alex, don't be stupid. I can totally beat them. Besides, it's only a hundred bucks." I lean closer to him and whisper, "pretend to be my brother- and halfway sober."

"Really, Win. It's not a good idea. Anything you'd bet on, I'd bet against."

"It's not like Dad will notice a hundred dollars going missing." I get up and sway on my heels before adding, "Besides, I really am good at pool." He groans and puts his head in his hands. I practically stumble over, standing surely enough for them to not feel bad playing me, but swaying enough that they'll definitely take the high bet.

After the first game, Alex pretends to try to drag me out, but I stop him.

"No! I bet three hundred I could beat you! Let me try again, please!" I pull three crisp hundred dollar bills out of my little purse. "Hold this, Alex." I shove the purse into his hands and slap the cash on the edge of the table. The boys I "lost" to laugh and together, manage to scrounge up three hundred in cash.

"Go ahead, my lady. Your break." The one I'm playing winks, despite the condescending tone. I turn away and spin the cue in my hands, rolling my eyes. And then, I knock his socks off, sweeping the floor with him. It was all too easy. I've only had two drinks the whole night, while he's had two drinks in the last ten minutes alone. Quickly, I collect the cash and when he yells after us that we hustled him, I turn back and shout, in a condescending voice, "Sure did, good prince. Maybe you should put the beer down and see how good you are sober." With a wink for good measure, we hurry out.

After repeating that same trick twice more and earning another five hundred dollars, we go our separate ways. He has my number in case he hears anything about his brother and I have his for when I find his brother- alive. Because I will. There's no other option.

Sure enough, two nights later, I'm listening to the older brother talk to Alex while I clean off my machete. I'd offer to give him a lift back to his motel, but I don't have a car, so I stay silent instead.

"I owe you so much," Alex is telling me the next morning. "If you ever need any help, just call. I'd be more than happy to hustle with you again." I laugh and hug Alex once more, agreeing to do just that sometime when we're in the same city, then make my way to the bus station. The next one leaves in thirty minutes and I don't want to miss it. Next up, a rugaru in Bryant, Arkansas. Or, at least, I think it's a rugaru. Wish I had a flame thrower. Oh, and know what's even better? I have to walk an hour from the bus station to the cheapest motel the tiny town offers.


	39. Chapter 39

I wish I had a car. I wish I could afford a car. I miss my Sugar, but I swear I would do anything to never have to walk an hour to a crappy motel again. I've been at this for three months and could someone please explain to me why all monsters have to pick the most secluded towns to hunt in? Actually- I just answered that: secluded town equals captive victims. Yay for me.

This time, I find myself walking to the Roadhouse. I've never actually met Ellen or Ash in person. I figure this is the best time. After all, I never told them my name and I disappeared from their radar when I moved in with Sam and Dean. I owe them an explanation, even if it is a lie. Anyway, I've got another fifteen minutes of walking to do. On the plus side, I finally sprung for a nice pair of headphones and a MP3 player. So now I've got all my favorite music illegally downloaded to enjoy whenever I want. My current favorite song is Solitude by Black Sabbath. It's just so  _mellow._  I don't really know how to explain it. Despite that, I've had it on repeat for the last mile and a half. Before that, I was listening to Hey, Jude.

No, I don't want to talk about it. No chick flick moments.

I might be missing home a bit. What makes it worse is the a-hole from Dallas hasn't done a thing. Nothing. At all. Which makes me want to kill him and go home all the more. If he were to do anything to indicate he were up to something, at least I'd be validated in leaving to protect my family. But he seems to be trying to stay on the straight-and-narrow and that just ticks me off even more. Thinking about him only makes me mad, so I avoid thoughts of him as I walk. Instead, I focus on what I should say when I meet Ellen. Soon enough, I can see the Roadhouse. I turn off the music and hurry to the door, somewhere between nervous and excited. They're probably the only people from my past that I can contact at the moment.

I knock on the door before opening it, knowing their open hours don't start for a little while.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I call out, scanning the room for anyone. "Ellen? Ash?" There's a grunt from one corner, but when I turn all I see is a man sleeping on a pool table. Not likely to be who I'm looking for, especially given the mullet. Then, someone I can't see cocks a gun.

"Who are you?" It's a woman's voice, maybe early thirties, at the most. Ellen, I know, is older, so I hesitate. When she demands to know who I am again, I finally respond.

"I go by Winnie. I'm looking for Ellen or Ash. They helped me out when I was younger."

"I don't recognize you." Another woman enters the room, older, likely in her fifties. I recognize her voice. This must be Ellen.

"But you might recognize my voice. I used to call and give you tips for cases. You and Ash." She seems confused for a moment, so I ask, "You are Ellen, right?"

"Mom?" The woman with the gun speaks up, "What do you want to do?"

"Put the gun down, Joanna Beth, I think she's right. I know her." She seems surprised, but does as she's told and puts the shotgun to the side. Ellen gestures for me to sit and I do, not wanting to upset her.

"If you are the girl I think you are, prove it." I frown at Ellen, not sure what she means for a moment, but then I realize she wants me to recount some cases I gave her.

"Every case I gave you came from Kansas. Most recently, I alerted you to a wraith in a mental hospital near Lawrence and a ghoul around Topeka."

"Every case was in Kansas? You sure about that?"

"I'm positive. I never left Kansas from the time I started calling you until a year ago, when I cut off." I see the wariness still in her eyes, so I add, "The first time I called you was in the spring about seven years ago. I was eleven."

"And you're Winnie?"

"That's the name I prefer."

"Mom, she can't be. Winnie's got to be more experienced." Confusion ripples through me.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've spoken to other hunters, correct?"

"A few. I've only ever seen them in passing," I glance between them, "and we only ever discussed what cases we were working on."

"Well, word's got around that you are always on a case. That you've taken more cases in the last three months than some hunters do in an entire year. That you'll hunt anything that kills people and has a trail," Joanna explains. "Someone even said you took out an entire vampire nest- ten vampires- all on your own. In one night."

"That was New Orleans, right? Back almost exactly three months ago," I tilt my head. "They were frequenting a small area, only pulling people from there. I managed to get some of them alone, took four out before following one back to the nest. Killed the rest there. Almost got my arm ripped off, too. Took two weeks to get it back to normal."

"You're really Winnie, then. You're almost as legendary as the Winchesters."

"The Winchesters? I'm sorry, I'm new to the community, you'll have to fill me in."

"Joanna, I need to go start prepping to open," Ellen interrupts our conversation.

"Okay, I'm just going to sit and talk with Winnie." Joanna turns to me, "Call me Jo. Honestly, I'm quite shocked you haven't heard of the Winchesters, especially if you've met other hunters. They like to gossip and there's almost always something big going down with those brothers. Older one is Dean and the younger one is Sam. They've died for each other several times and come back every time. Heck, two hunters named Walt and Roy tried to kill them, shot 'em, when they thought that would help the brothers prevent the apocalypse. Boys came back to life and stopped the final seal from gettin' broken. Now, let me tell you some of the crazy stuff these dummies do." She leads me to a table, puts a drink in my hand, and a few hours later, I know every hunt my brothers have ever been on. Then, the bar opens, and I get to meet some more hunters. Shockingly, they're all excited to meet me. Finally, I decide it's time to head out. After all, I have to get on my way to a case and the bus leaves early. As I'm walking out, Jo stops me.

"One more thing about the Winchesters. They've got a sister, but she's gone missing. They're ripping up the world looking for her. If you hear anything about an Ava Winchester, you call and let us know, okay? They're frantic."

"If I find her, what should I tell her?" I play along.

"Dean said, and I quote, 'find her, tell her we say to get her ass back to the bunker so we can kick it for being so stupid to think she should run.'" Jo shrugs. "No clue what she's running from, Dean refused to say, only telling me it wasn't his place, but I guess it's bad, from the look on his face."

"I'll be sure to let her know if I find her," I agree with a smile, pulling out my headphones and MP3. We say goodbye and I start walking. The hunters are mostly passed out or drunk and Jo won't leave Ellen, so I don't get a ride back. Not that I wanted one, although it would be nice to not have to walk.


	40. Chapter 40

Clearly, hunters love to gossip more than I gave them credit for. Every hunter I run into knows me by name, even if they don't know my face. Still, they scramble for the chance to hunt with me. Generally, I turn them down. It's too risky. There's one, though, named Romeo. Or, at least, he goes by Romeo. He's a vampire hunter and is also ex-cartel. He's from Texas. I hunt with him solely because I can get info on my personal demon through him.

Of course, hunters' gossip works in my favor, too. Apparently, the legendary Winchesters have heard of me. They've also ended up on the same case as me before, but thanks to bumping into another hunter, I've found out and blown town before they could see me. Also, I've heard they've got a newbie hunter with them- a guy named Jacks. I knew my best friend would make a great hunter one day. From the gossip I've heard, I was right. Just wish I knew how he got into it.

Currently, I'm back in Houston. I swear that city has an infestation. I've heard of far too many cases coming out of it for there not to be. This current one I believe is a djinn. I won't know until I see the body, though. Fingers crossed I don't have to break in this time.

As I wander through the streets on my way to a motel, I hear someone yell my name.

"Winnie!" I whip around. "What are you doing back in Houston?" Ten storms over to me.

"Ten!" He turns back to the man who yelled at him- the same one from the apartment building. "What the hell? Where are you going? And who is that?" Ten waves him off and turns back to me. Maybe I should've walked away while I still could've.

"What are you doing back in Houston?"

"A job. Don't worry. I won't be here long." His hand slashes through the air as if that last sentence bothers him.

"No!" His face crinkles, lips pulling away from his teeth in a snarl. "I heard you went missing."

"I'm not missing. I know exactly where I am and that's exactly where I want to be at the moment." Okay, maybe not where I want to be, but it is where I should be, so that counts, right?

"Well, cops don't believe that." When he narrows his eyes and tilts his chin stubbornly, I know he doesn't either.

"Well,  _they_ better. It's the truth, after all."

"Running won't help it."

"You know why I'm running. I refuse to put anyone in danger." I glare up at him. "And yes, that includes you."

"You need a place to stay, though."

"No, Ten. I can just get a motel."

"Really? A free bed doesn't sound appealing."

"Forgive me for not wanting to put you in danger." My voice drips caustically.

"I'm already in danger. I'm in danger every day." He crosses his arms.

"My brothers are equally as bull-headed as you, so that stubbornness won't work on me. I'll get a motel."

"No."

"I'm not arguing with you." I try to pick up my duffel, but he's stepping on the strap. "Really?"

"Let me help you. Give me just a little peace of mind. Especially after you cryptically gave me a phone number last time." And cue the staring match. We lock eyes and hold our positions, feet planted at shoulder width, arms crossed, and eyes glinting. "You don't get your bag back until you agree." I could just knock him off the strap, but seeing as he saved my life, I can't bring myself to attack him. So I give in with a long, suffering sigh.

"Here's the key to get into the building and this one will open my door. Apartment 327."

"Thank you." Yeah, maybe it'd be easier and safer to stay in a motel, but at least I don't have to dish out a few hundred bucks for a roof over my head. Plus, now I won't be entirely alone the entire time.

"Do you know where-"

"Yeah. I remember. I'm gonna go. Your friend is giving me the stink eye and it's rather unsettling." I suppose most people would find him terrifying. He's human, though. Yes, I understand humans can be just as bad, but they're also easier to take down, so I'm not too concerned.

"I'll see you later." He lumbers off, but I don't see as I'm currently hurrying in the other direction.

His apartment is practically bare. There's a couch and a chair in front of a TV, two seats at the island, and a single bed and dresser in each bedroom. It's not difficult to figure out which is his- once I open the dresser to find his clothes. Honestly, you'd never know someone lived here. It looks fake or staged. I drop my bag in the spare bedroom and head to the kitchen, scouting what he has. I should have expected the stack of frozen dinners. Guess it's time to go grocery shopping.

It takes me only an hour to round up the basics. How was he surviving? Ten literally didn't even have milk, eggs, fruit, or veggies. He was only eating frozen meals. That's so disgusting. Guess I'll be doing the cooking. Not that I anticipated anything different.

Dinner ends up being a pot pie with a small side salad. Ten isn't home when I eat, so I wrap him up a plate in the fridge and stow the leftovers where he'll see them in case he wants more. Just before he gets home, I go to bed.

And yeah, cue the nightmare. Of fucking course.


	41. Chapter 41

Oh, how fucking wonderful. Like I needed to give Ten's boss, Nikolai, any more reason to dislike me. Not that I gave him any reason in the first place.

There's a djinn here in Houston. I just so happen to have tracked it to the place where Nikolai is having a meeting with a weapons dealer. So now I have to break into a warehouse filled with armed men to stick a silver dagger covered in lamb's blood through the heart of a specific one.

Certainly there are less movie-esque ways to die.

Still, gotta do whatcha gotta do. I suppose I could wait for him to come out, but there's no guarantee that I'll be able to get him before he gets in the car. There's no way for me to get him if he makes it back to his apartment. There's too many security cameras there and in the surrounding area. Here, I know I won't be on any cameras since all the ones in the area have been knocked out. Thank you, Kostya.

I hide my duffel out of view of the street and tuck my two daggers into their sheaths. One fits in my boot and I put the other at the small of my back. After checking that no one from the street can see me, I climb up the fire escape to the second floor. As far as I can tell, everyone in the building is on the first floor. At least, I hope that's right.

It's not terribly difficult to force the window open. It is, after all, designed to be easy to open in an emergency. Someone who doesn't have to do this a lot wouldn't have managed it, but I could because of how many windows I've forced open since starting hunting.

Inside, I crouch behind a wardrobe for a minute or two, listening to make sure no one's coming to investigate the sound of the window opening. When I hear no footsteps, I cross to the door and sneak into the hall. It's not easy walking quietly in boots, by the way. But, as they say, practice makes perfect, and I manage to walk as quietly as necessary. Their voices will cover my steps. I approach a small overlook and crouch to look down at them without drawing attention.

The djinn is, of course, standing front and center, talking to Nikolai. If you want a sure-fire victim, I suppose, that's the best course of action. He's guaranteed at least one handshake through the night. His men will take care of Nikolai's once the kingpin falls into the manufactured reality.

At least, that's what I assume will happen. Doesn't matter either way. I need to find a way to get into the center of the group, stab him in the heart with a freaking blood-coated silver dagger, and get out without being killed and without them getting a good look at my face. Yeah, sure, that's feasible. I'm so not going to get killed. I really wish there was some other time to do this, but beggars can't be choosers.

Then, Nikolai is holding his hand out to shake.

"No!" I yell without thinking, leaping over the railing at the same time. It's a fifteen foot drop and when I hit, I roll. I heard somewhere that sticking a landing is terrible for your joints. Not to mention, it hurts like hell.

"And who are you?" The djinn turns to me. Ten gives me a look that says I'm going to get him killed, but I ignore him, focusing on the monster in front of me.

"Nikolai, you need to step away from him." I stalk forward. "Just trust me on this. You don't want to be anywhere near him."

The djinn grins, the cruel smirk unsettling me, but I'm careful not to let it show.

"You think you can take one of us down?" He opens his arms, indicating the men standing behind him.

"I'm sure of it. But don't make it out like you've got others of your kind here," I sneer, "I know you're alone." I stop just outside of his reach. Even if he were to lunge he wouldn't be able to reach me. Plenty of Nikolai's men- not to mention Ten and Nikolai themselves- are yelling at me to get out, that I shouldn't be there. I ignore them, of course.

"You never answered my question." It's my turn to smile. It doesn't quite meet my eyes.

"Winnie."

"A hunter, interesting. You won't be the first I take down. And certainly not the last." He draws up to his full height and I roll my eyes. "I've heard your name."

"I'm sure. I've become rather… how should I put it? Well known, I believe, in these past few months. Works in my favor, anyway."

"A full nest, in one sweep."

"New Orleans. I know. You don't need to read a list of my accomplishments to me. Can we just get this over with? I'd like to get to dinner and I still need to make it, so, you know, the sooner the better."

"It just so happens I'm hungry as well."

"Winner takes all." Oh, man. I missed a chance to use a pun. Whatever. Time to focus. He signals his men to stay out of it and lunges for me. I duck the punch and am suddenly amazingly glad I'd chosen to wear gloves earlier. The only skin showing is on my face, even my head and neck are covered. Go, past-me.

The next blow he aims lands, right in the gut. I stumble. When I feel someone at my back, I realize I need to get him out of the room. I turn, keeping my eye on him and backing towards a door slowly. He follows, albeit not silently. He taunts that I'm too scared to really face him now that he's hit me.

"Take that glove off, I can give you every happiness you've ever wanted."

"While feeding off me? Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I think I'll pass," I choke out. My breath is coming back to me, but not nearly quick enough. We continue in a back and forth, each landing and dodging blows. I slip through the door and he follows, but I've hidden behind it. Once he's through, I close and lock it, trapping him. Now that everyone outside is safe, I begin fighting in earnest. A few minutes later, covered in new bruises and bleeding from my nose, I emerge from the room. The blood on the dagger is no longer simply lamb's blood.

"What were you thinking?" Nikolai snarls into my face. Yeah, I should've seen this coming.

"If you listened to any of that conversation, you'd be thanking me right now." I sigh, starting to walking away, continuing, "I need to go start making dinner."

"Grab her." I stop where I am, turn, and face the boss.

"Trust me on this. You don't want into the world I'm in. Stick to your little underworld, with its rules and boundaries, and leave me to the messes I have to clean up." He tries to talk, but I raise a hand, cutting him off. "Look, I get it, you think want answers. Thing is, I only give those answers under extenuating situations. This does not apply. Now, I'm hungry. I'll be on my way."


	42. Chapter 42

Nikolai hated me for all of ten minutes, the amount of time it took Kostya to research the djinn I killed and realize I had actually saved their lives. So, yeah, that's good. Except now he wants to take me everywhere with him. Hence why I'm now stuck in a black, sporty SUV with Nikolai and his three most trusted men- Ten, Kostya, and Ivan. There's another group in the car behind us, consisting of another of Nikolai's men, named Roman, a weapons dealer named Zec, a guy named Romero who carries a machete everywhere, and another bodyguard named Sergei. For some reason I cannot begin to comprehend, we're driving to the middle of Kansas.

He said something about having to meet with other families and wanting to do it in a small town on neutral territory. I guess bumb-fuck, Kansas works for them. In any case, they haven't actually told me the name of the town. With my running luck, that means this could go really bad. Either we're going to end up in Lebanon, or somewhere else someone knows me. I wouldn't be pleased with either. I'm here under protest, of course, but at least they let me bring my duffel. If we encounter trouble, I want to be able to kill it.

I lean my head back, closing my eyes and attempting to ignore the conversations around me. It's not working very well, so I finally give in and grab my earbuds. I don't bother picking a song, just sticking it on shuffle. The first song that pops up is "Highway to Hell."

I'm too superstitious for my own good, but I'll be damned if that doesn't sound like a bad omen.

I doze in and out for the next few hours, grateful for the light sleep. No nightmares that way. Eventually, I become aware of an argument circling around me. I sit up, looking around and out the windows. Yeah, I should've jumped out as soon as I heard that song come on. I really have no good luck.

"Where are we going?" I ask, seeing as I'm the only one out of the loop.

"The old blacksmith's place," Kostya grunts from the front seat, before returning to yelling at Ivan in Russian.

"Make a left." He slams on the brakes.

"You know where we are?" They all stare at me, shocked.

"You knew I was from Kansas, I just never told you where. Now, I don't really like being here, so let's make this quick. Make a left here." Finally, Kostya follows my directions. "Now a right. In three blocks there'll be a small alley on your left. Park there." Once we arrive, we pile out of the car and I silently lead the way to the smith's place. A few people stare, their eyes lingering on me like they should know me. I look away quickly. No need for them to figure out who I am.

"This it is," I mutter, yanking open the front door and slipping inside. "If you don't mind, I have some business here myself, so once I check everyone out, I'll be on my way." Nikolai doesn't approve, but I'm not one of his men, so I'll be leaving anyway.

Sure enough, it doesn't take long for everyone to arrive, and none are in my area of expertise, so I make my escape, slipping out a side door and wandering along the street. I move rather quickly, until I reach the street I'm looking for. There, I stop almost every two feet, taking in everything around me. I find and open the fake rock where I once hid a necklace I made to mimic the kids who went to school. It's still there, but I put it back. I don't need the trinket, I just want to see my past. A few houses further and I pause to look at the lawn where, when I was really little, I had played with the puppies. I don't remember much from that time, it wasn't very long, but it was before my mom met her boyfriend. When I reach my old house, I just stare at it.

I shouldn't have come here, it has nothing but bad memories, but I can't seem to stop my feet from taking me up the familiar walk across the driveway, up the porch steps, and to the front door.

"Miss," someone calls, "I think you've got the wrong house. No one lives there. Hasn't been anyone there for a long, long time."

"Thank you, Miss Robertson," I smile sweetly at the lady who would give me cookies once a week, "but I know I'm at the right place."

"Ava? Little Ava? Is that you?" She gasps, grabbing a cane. She didn't have one of those before. I hurry off the steps to meet her, so she doesn't walk far.

"Hi, Miss Robertson. It's been a long time," I say, taking her hand. "Your cookies were always delicious. I just want you to know I always appreciated them and you, for taking the time to make them."

"I just wish I could've done more for you, sweetheart. We all knew those parents of yours weren't good parents, we just didn't know how bad it truly was."

"You have nothing to apologize for. The only people I want an apology from are dead and gone." She has no reason to know what happened after. "I'm just here to see the house."

"You need some closure." She waits for me to nod before adding, "Well, when you're done over there, come get some cookies from me. I've made them every week and given them to the neighborhood kids in your memory. No one really knew what happened to you. We were scared you were dead."

"No, ma'am, not dead. Just whisked away. I'll tell you more when I come back for a cookie, okay?"

"Of course, of course. Off you go, then. You know where to find me." I laugh and walk back, glimpsing Roman out of the corner of my eye. Nikolai sent him to keep an eye on me, probably wondering what my business here is.

Then, I'm standing in front of the door, debating whether or not I actually want to go in. I lift my hand, turn the knob, and push, stepping into my past.


	43. Chapter 43

I'd forgotten a lot about life before foster care. That was mostly on purpose. But standing here, the past comes rushing back, every last detail.

I can remember the one little corner I felt safe. It was the only place I played, wedged in between the fireplace and the wall with my one doll. The chair where my step-dad always sat and the couch where my birth-mother lounged. As long as I stayed quietly in the corner, they ignored me.

I walk through the living room to the stairs, instinctively stepping only on the parts and steps that won't creak or break. I open their bedroom door, moving to the walk-in closet, which doubled as my prison. Inside was a bucket, sending out a rancid smell, and several unopened cans of soup. There's a reason I can't stomach eating soup anymore; this is it.

I wander back down to the kitchen, flicking through the cabinets, and find a small prescription bottle. I remember being prescribed medication, but as far as I know, I never actually took it. So why was this filled? And why is it half empty?

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," I mutter to myself, "she did like pills." And I leave the kitchen, only to find I'm not here alone anymore.

"It's been nearly an hour," Ivan huffs. "We were going to wait for you to come back, but Roman said that would take a while."

"Sorry, I didn't realize." Was I really just wandering around here for an hour?

"Was this one of your houses?" Ten asks and I tilt my head. How should I answer this? I don't really want them knowing what had happened before I met him.

"How much about my life before I met you do you know?"

"Almost nothing, just that you were supposed to be moving in with your dad."

"Yeah, my mom and step-father died and it took them a while to get in touch with John. He died later, but that's besides the point. This is where I lived before I met you."

"With your mom." It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "So I guess this place reminds you of better times, then." I see bitterness and some touch of envy on Nikolai's face at Ten's words. I remember hearing he and his closest friends grew up in a nasty orphanage and they hadn't exactly been treated well.

"Not exactly." Envy fades to confusion, but still only Ten speaks.

"What does that mean?"

"I'd like to burn this place down, if I wasn't concerned about catching Miss Robertson's place, too." A small smile shifts my face. "Speaking of, she promised me a cookie. I'd quite like to try one again. It's been a long time." I hurry out of the house. Closure isn't exactly what I found in there, but I do know I'll never return. It's time to be done with this place. After the cookie, I'll probably try to forget all about the town, act like it isn't a part of me.

"There you are, Ava. Would you like to come in?"

"Actually, Miss Robertson, my friends and I are just passing through on our way back home, this was just a bit of a detour for my sake. Can I just take the cookie to go?"

"Of course, my dear, I'm sure you want to put this place behind you." She putters over to the dish next to her couch. "I do hope they find your mother some day. Before that awful boyfriend of hers, she was such a sweet young girl. Lord only knows what he did to make her run."

"She didn't run, Miss Robertson, she's dead. That's why I went to foster care."

"Oh, Ava, didn't they ever tell you? They said they wouldn't for a while, but I never imagined they'd lie forever. Sweetie, she isn't dead. Only your step-dad. Your mother's just missing." Miss Robertson hands me a few cookies, wrapped neatly in a cloth napkin. "Now, I don't want to keep you, but if you ever find yourself in the neighborhood…"

"I'll come by and see you," I agree with a smile, but inside my stomach is turning and twisting itself into knots. Missing? If she's not dead, then she could be out there somewhere. I thought I'd put her behind me, that I never had to worry about her again. But I guess I need to re-evaluate and do some research into her. I walk back to the group.

"Romero? Your group was into drugs, right?" I wait for the small nod. "In the last decade or so, did you ever run into a woman named Avallon Moore? Maybe with a different last name?"

"Would she have gone by Lonnie?" My eyes go wide. "Yeah, she was still in the business last time I saw her a little under a year ago. Why?"

"How offended would you be if I, say, got her arrested?" He doesn't respond, seeming to understand that his answer won't make a difference. "Let's just get going. I don't like this place." I pull out a cookie, chocolate chip oatmeal, as always, and take a small bite, feeling the bad memories fade away in the taste of safety.

We pile into the cars, the silence tense and heavy. I continue nibbling at my cookies, earbuds in and "Don't Look Back" by Boston blasting loud enough to damage my hearing.


	44. Chapter 44

"Hey, Ten," I call as the door opens, "dinner's almost ready." A grunt is the only response to my statement. It's a rather easy meal to make, just cavatappi pasta with a meat sauce and mushrooms. There's a salad on the side and banana "nice cream" for dessert. (Ten won't eat real ice cream, but frozen, blended bananas with peanut butter and chocolate chips taste practically the same.)

"Smells good," he comments while taking his three-quarters of the meal. "How was your day?"

"Good, not too exciting." My fork spins uselessly through the pasta, not actually picking anything up before I continue, "I'm going to be leaving for a few weeks."

He glares at me, "why?"

"I do have a life, you know. This is something I have to do. It's only two weeks." He still doesn't seem pleased; he's still glaring and I can literally feel myself beginning to spontaneously combust because of it.

"You can't leave." Oh, hello, Dean, didn't realize my legal guardian was here. Guess I'm staying, then.

"I can and I will. Whether or not I come back depends on you. If you'll try to stop me from leaving again, I won't come back. Understand that. I do actually know how to take care of myself." And now I sound like a whiny teenager who wants to live alone. Difference is, I actually can take care of myself. I managed it for three months before Ten forced me to live here- not that having a free warm bed for the last two weeks hasn't been nice, but honestly, it's a bit stifling to have someone over my shoulder all the time. If Ten isn't keeping an eye on me, another one of Nikolai's men is. It's frustrating, but it's not like I've really been doing much.

"You're equally as stubborn as I am, aren't you?"

"You mean as stubborn as you and my brothers? Yes. I am. I've had to be so they don't walk all over me." Not that they'd really mean to, but it would end up happening if I wasn't able to hold my ground. Well, you know how it is.

"I don't know that I like being compared to your brothers," he grumbles and takes a massive bite.

"Well, you treat me exactly the same way they do." I crook my eyebrows at him and wait. He just scowls and, after a long pause, nods.

"Fine, you can go."

"Oh, gee, thanks for permission. Really," I let the snark in my voice bite at him, "I appreciate it."

He glares, but drops the topic. I'll be gone before he wakes up tomorrow, so whatever. Guess I can leave my extra stuff here. Really, knowing he won't stop me from leaving was the entire reason for this conversation. Aside from that, our meal is eaten in silence. Ten isn't much of a talker, clearly, and I much prefer it this way. It's better than someone digging for information.

And once dinner is over, the dishes packed away, and Ten settled in his room for the night, I pack my bag. The hunt is pretty guaranteed to be a ghoul, given the information I've found, but I've been wrong before, so I add a few of the basics to my bag. I've gotten pretty good at hiding the weapons in my bag, wrapping them in my shirts and making sure they're in the middle of my stuff. With a few shirts, an extra pair of pants, plenty of socks, and a couple plaid button-downs, I'm ready.

I creep out, hurrying to the bus stop, and onto the bus. The ride itself is almost twelve hours, letting me off in Small Town, Nevada. First thing I do is settle into a motel and set up my laptop.

It's easy enough to pull up a map of the graveyard and start marking off the locations of the bodies that have been marked as missing. As I expected, they're centered in one corner more than the others, so I have a pretty good bet of where the ghoul(s?) will show up. They'll definitely be there only after the graveyard closes for the night, so I'll slip in before it closes, and stake out the corner as best I can without being caught. Once all my plans are made, I pull up my recent fascination, online games.

I hadn't been very good at them before, so I used to rarely play, only doing it if I was terribly bored. Staying at Ten's place, though, I ended up home alone a lot, so I started playing again. Now that I know how to fight, the games aren't as difficult. After a few weeks of being home for most of the day, only stopping to make dinner, I started to get pretty good, so now I play when I have the time.

When my phone beeps, letting me know I have an hour to get to the cemetery, I quickly finish the level I'm on, save my progress, and then get ready. The cemetery is only a fifteen minute walk away, so I take my time double checking my gear. I've got a silver knife, a gun with silver bullets, a machete, and a hammer.

The fight is rather uneventful. Getting used to hunting on your own means most of the fights get repetitive. Plus, I don't have to worry about injuring someone with friendly fire as I fight, so that's a plus. Am I just trying to convince myself I'm doing better alone than with my family? Maybe so. But there was something interesting that came out of the fight: the ultimate weapon.

I know everyone's heard of it. I just so happen to own it now. The ghoul let it slip, in the middle of the fight, by screaming that they'd never let me take it. I conned the name out of them and as soon as the word "Colt" slipped past its lips, I ended it and took the gun. How did a monster get its hands on a hunter's weapon? That, I'll never know. But it did, somehow. And I'm grateful for it. Since I know how to make bullets for the gun, I now have a trump card. Granted, I'll be doing my best to make sure no one finds out about it, but still. Always comforting to have something strong by your side.

And then I receive a call.

"Winnie? He's missing."

Would anyone have slept well after hearing that?


	45. Chapter 45

"Winnie? He's missing," Ten's voice rumbles from the other end of the line. My breath catches in my throat, panic welling up inside me. I thought I was prepared for this. My mind starts to spiral. Just before I manage to slip into a full blown panic attack, Ten speaks again.

"We believe he's headed to Houston. Nikolai is going to have someone keep an eye on him, okay? We've already got someone searching for him; it won't take us long to find him. We won't let him get you. Just don't come back for a little bit."

"Thanks," I whisper.

"You don't have to thank me. Just stay safe."

"Let me know when you find him."

"Of course. Would you like us to-"

"No. Just tell me when you find him and let me know where he is."

"Alright. Then you'll probably hear from me soon. Stay safe."

"You, too." We hang up. The silence that echoes in the room is overwhelming and almost suffocating. I start to panic again, but snap myself out of it. I don't have time for that. I need to stay calm until after I've handled him. Then, and only then, can I allow myself to break down. When I'm finally safely at home.

I walk back to my computer, pulling up my game of the week. Another player has sent me a message. I'm grateful he speaks English; a lot of people on here are from other countries. It doesn't affect the game to not be able to communicate with the other players since it is a solo game. But you can chat with them, if you want.

_Hi. How are you?_  The message is only from a few minutes ago. He must've seen that I was on today.

_I've been better._ Almost instantly, the three dots indicating typing appear.

_What's wrong?_ How much can I tell him? Then again, he knows nothing about me. My finger taps against the fake wood of the table as I debate telling him. On one hand, telling him anything about myself is risky; he's some random person from the internet. On the other hand, this is the only personal information he's ever heard from me. Since my identity has been kept from the public, unless he's good enough to hack into the American police database from Japan, I think I'll be safe. And, to be honest, I really need to talk to someone about this. My fingers drift back to the keyboard.

_This probably sounds weird, but I promise it's related. How much do you know about American serial killers?_ The little dots start blinking, appearing and disappearing as he starts and restarts his response.

_I know about some of the old ones, but I outgrew that phase a few years ago._

_Only a few years ago? Then you might've heard of him. America's most recent serial killer, Hank Andrews._

_I've heard the name. I know he went to jail, but the sentence was pathetic because they wanted the bodies of the kids back._

_And he had one survivor._

_Yeah. The reason he went to jail. But no one knows how she survived._

_Double jointed thumbs._

_You're joking._ And in a separate message,  _How do you know that?_

_How do you think?_  I can literally feel the shock coming from the other end of the

_You're the survivor._

_I got some really bad news tonight. He was released about six months ago and today, he went missing._

_You think he's going to hunt you down._

_I know it. He swore he would._

_I can't tell you to calm down because I'm sure that would be rude of me, but I will tell you not to panic. That would lower your chances of seeing him coming._

_I know. Right now, I have a friend doing something pretty illegal to find him. I'm waiting on the call to say they know his location._

_Maybe you shouldn't be telling me this._

_No, these chat records are erased completely every twenty-four hours, remember? It's safe._

_Still…_

_Besides, there's no way the police would know I play specifically this game and that I'd chat with a someone across the world about this stuff. I think I'm safe._

_Be careful, though. You'll be the first person they suspect._

_I know._

_You took an awful long time typing two words._

_I was going to say something else, but I changed it._ Yeah, I was going to say that being on the run for four and a half months will throw them off my tail. So long as I wait until after his death is televised, I'll be alright. Plus, I need to make sure his body is found somewhere they'd never expect me to be. Not that I want to tell this kid that I plan to kill the bastard.

_Just watch your back, okay? And check in with me? I'd rather you not entirely disappear and me never find out what happened._

_I will._  Just then, the phone rings. I pick up and Ten gives me all the information I need.

_Sorry, I've gotta go. They found him._

_Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow._

_Of course._

**The next day**

_Hey, just checking in. I've been on a bus all night, ugh._  He responds a few times, but I only send the one message. I'm two hours from my target and need to plan. The motel I'm at has fake security cameras so I don't need to worry about my face being recorded here. Plus, I know Ten will act as my alibi.

**The following morning**

_I'm alright. I don't have to worry about him anymore. I'm going home._


	46. Chapter 46

The phone rings and I scramble to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Winnie? We found him again. He's in Houston."

"Near your apartment?"

"How'd you know?" The sarcasm is heavy in his voice and it almost makes me chuckle.

"Lucky guess. Motel?"

"Yeah, under a fake name, and in a disguise."

"What name?"

"Howard Anderson."

"Weak," I mutter, "Thanks for the help. Just… stay safe. I know you can take care of yourself, but he's…"

"Unpredictable. I know. Nikolai does, too, so we've got people on him."

"One more thing."

"I assume you'll need an alibi?"

"Yes."

"We've got you. Got a pen? These are the names you can give the police." I scribble down the list of ten or so people and thank him once more. "Finish this, Ava. You need it." We hang up and I quickly log off from the chat.

There's a bus Austin in two hours. In less than ten minutes, I'm packed up and hurrying to the front desk to check out. The walk to the bus station is about forty minutes, hence why I'm leaving super early. I need to make a pit stop for some snacks along the way, so I'll be there a little under an hour before the bus.

True to form, the bus is running late. I'm starting to get pretty jumpy and restraining myself from pacing is getting difficult. Eventually though, the bus arrives and I have to settle in for a ten-hour ride in a cramped seat. Oh, how easy that is.

The walk from the station to the motel isn't too bad. At least I'll get a shower, change of clothes and a nap. Plus, I'd really like to get the Colt out of my bag and stored somewhere a bit more secure. I have a sinking feeling it's something almost anyone would kill to get their hands on. And, as much as I'd like to, it's the one weapon I can't use to kill the bastard. Maybe it'd give me peace of mind, but then the police would have the ballistics and be able to link together cases using the Colt. We can't have that. So it stays home.

There's no new information when I arrive, so I get down to business, pulling up all the information I can on the motel. It doesn't have a lot of security, thankfully, just a couple cameras in the lobby. I'll be able to sneak in through his window without too much trouble. Getting there, however, will be the bigger battle. I need to keep my face off all the security cameras on the streets surrounding the motel. Granted, I don't think they'll really check them, but still. I can't risk my face being on the cameras and being caught after everyone lies as my alibi. They'd all get in trouble, too.

Then, my phone rings. It's a number I don't have programed in, but one I know well.

"Hello, is this Winnie?" Shoot, shoot. I drop the pitch of my voice as much as I can before responding.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Ava, don't dick around, it's Dean. We spoke to Jo. Showed her a picture of our sister. She said she'd met you, but that you couldn't be Ava 'cuz you're Winnie. Then gave us your number."

"Look, Dean, you know damn well why I left. But it doesn't matter now. I'll be home in a week or so. Yell at me then."

"Why will you be home in a week?"

"I can't say that, but it should be on the news in a few days. You'll understand then. Please, Dean, I'm sorry I ran off without saying anything, but I needed to do this. I couldn't stay home and risk him attacking and hurting you. Don't you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. Sam and I have done the same several times. But you know what? We're family. We need each other. So get your ass home as soon as possible so we can yell at you for ditching without a word and then make up. Okay?"

"Okay, Dean. I will."

"Good. You're our sister and we love you. See you soon."

"Bye, Dean. I love you. Tell Sam, too."

"I will. Bye." After hanging up, I spin to my laptop. I should probably let my online buddy know that I'm okay. I pull up the game and search for his name, applepi.

 _Hey, just checking in. I've been on a bus all night, ugh._  He responds a few times, but I only send the one message. I'm two hours from my target and need to plan. The motel I'm at has fake security cameras so I don't need to worry about my face being recorded here. Plus, I know Ten will act as my alibi. All that's left is isolating the cameras around the motel and making sure I have a secure path between Ten's apartment and there.


	47. Chapter 47

I exit the second bus I've been on today and start walking to Ten's apartment. I spend only fifteen minutes in the apartment, greeting everyone who's helping be my alibi and changing my clothes. Then, I walk out, hair tucked into a hat and styled to make me look more masculine. I've removed my make-up and am wearing baggier jeans. I doubt my shoe size will matter, but I'm wearing boots three sizes too big with socks stuffed into the toe.

My path to the motel takes me through far too many alleys and includes quite a bit of circling around. I've got to follow all the "dead" cameras, which means the distance is almost triple what it would be if I didn't have to. I guess all those long walks from the busses to the motels did come in handy, after all.

Finally, I'm there, under the window that I know leads to his room. He has the T.V. on, but I can see he's not watching it. The idiot left his curtains open, so with my compact mirror, I can see in. Not that it matters. There's no chance he'll escape.

After almost two hours spent crouched under the window, he gets up and saunters to the bathroom. Two minute countdown; I've gotta be in by then.

I close the compact with a snick and tuck it into my pocket. Motel windows are shockingly easy to jimmy the lock on, so when I slip my pocket knife in and wiggle it for a moment, it pops right open. Note to self: always check the locks on the windows when choosing a motel.

I shake off the unnecessary thought and slide the window open silently, climbing through as quietly as possible. I'd leave it open for an easy exit, but there's no point if someone hears me, so I just close it behind me, take out my dagger, and wait. There's no way in hell I'm sitting on that bed.

Clearly, he takes longer in the bathroom than I'd anticipated, and I find myself waiting for almost three minutes. But then the door creaks open and the fateful moment has arrived.

I'd thought I was ready for this. I truly did. But seeing his face dead on, being in the same room as him- I totally underestimated the terror I'd feel.

He asks the one question that shakes all the nerves from my body, "Who are you?" Any panic I might have felt flies out the window and like that, I have the upper hand.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

"Why would I? Answer the question."

"No. Not yet. If you want to know, Mr. Hank Andrews, you'll sit." He crosses the room, giving into my demand.

"My name is Ava Winchester," I inform him, a cruel smile creeping across my face. I grab his head and wrench it back. "I believe you owe me an apology."

"Ava. My only mistake," he chokes out. Forcing his head back this far limits his oxygen, so he can't scream.

"Apologize for what you did to me and those other girls. Do it. Now."

"No."

"You will." I press the dagger against his throat making just the slightest nick. "Apologize." The terror in his eyes tells me everything. A vile creature like him is no man. He has no spine- that's why he preys on children. And so, the tormentor from my childhood gives in to his victim.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry." Those words are good enough for me. I raise the blade from his neck to his cheek.

"There's one other thing I want," I say, before slashing the weapon in the same pattern he had done to me and every other girl he attacked.

"Is that it?" He gasps out. My smile returns, not meeting my eyes.

"Oh, no," I tell him, returning the knife to his neck, "I came here for your life." And I press it across, slitting his throat. His nails dig into my long sleeves, but none of my DNA will be under his nails. I've left no fingerprints on his scalp, courtesy of the gloves on my hands. And as he bleeds out, I step out of the path of the blood, barely a single drop hitting me. Only one, on end of my sleeve. But so long as I get hydrogen peroxide on it in the next few hours, it won't leave a mark.

Truthfully, his death is anticlimactic. Much more drab than any hunt I've been on. Watching the light fade from his eyes doesn't bring me any sense of peace, any weight off my shoulders, or the boulder from my chest. I hadn't thought it would. After all, my brothers have told me far too many times that killing the demon who killed their mom didn't bring her back.

Killing him couldn't bring back the children he killed. But it can let me rest easy knowing he will never do this again. And in that sense, I'll be able to sleep a little better at night. So once his eyes glass over, I put away the dagger, walk to the window, adjust it so it will lock with a tap of the knife, and climb through.

I close it and knock the lock into place, pocketing the pocketknife, and walk back the way I came, no cameras catching my face. Soon enough, I've arrived back at Ten's apartment.

"Are you alright?" Ten asks the moment I step through the door.

"I never have been," I mutter, "but I'm better." My eyes slide across the men in the room. I'll never be comfortable in large crowds. I'll never walk with a man directly behind me. I'll never eat plain chocolate or have soup. I'll always have issues. I've always known that. Almost nothing about my situation has changed. So I tell them the only thing I can.

"You never have to worry about him again. He's gone." I drag the hat off my head, take off the gloves, and walk to the bathroom. I need to clean the dagger and hide the bag of weapons where the police won't find it. His body will be found in a day or two, when he doesn't show up for checkout from the motel.

Once it's clean, I move back to my laptop and send a single message through the game.

_I'm alright. I don't have to worry about him anymore. I'm going home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't put much in the notes for this fic, since I'm transferring it from fanfiction.net but I wanted to let you all know my thoughts on this chapter.
> 
> Yes, the fight scene is extremely anticlimactic. I did that on purpose. Ava felt like it was anticlimactic, so why should the reader feel any different? 
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering, I do read and appreciate all comments. Please, if you have requests for other fics, let me know.


	48. Chapter 48

Two days later, Ten and I are eating breakfast, watching the news, when there's an announcement that a body has been found at a nearby motel. Our eyes meet briefly, but we exchange not a single word. We both know they'll be here soon enough.

When the knock at the door comes, I remain in the kitchen, quietly washing the dishes. Ten speaks with the officers in a low voice. He gives them his alibi, the list of names previously prepared. And then they ask what I knew was coming.

"Have you seen or heard from Ava Winchester?"

"Actually," Ten says, gesturing to the kitchen, "she's been staying here." I put away the last piece of silverware and turn to the officers.

"This is about his death, isn't it?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, I assume I'm suspect number one in that case, seeing as I'm the one who has the most reason to kill him."

"Ah-" I raise my hand and cut the officer off.

"Don't worry about it. It makes the most sense to suspect me." I meet their eyes and lie fluidly, "however, I think you'll find it's rather impossible that I was the one to do it. For starters, I didn't even know he'd left Dallas."

"How did you know the murder didn't take place in Dallas?"

"The motel on the news," I tilt my head towards the TV, "is really close to here. I've stayed there before." Yeah, and never will again.

"Oh, right," the cop muttered. Clearly, they didn't expect me to know the area. They're trying to catch me in a lie.

"I assume that you want the list of people I was with that night."

"Well-"

"Wouldn't it just be easier to take my alibi than ask me a million questions about that night? I was with Nikolai, Ten, Ivan, Vivian, Erin, Lev, and several more of Ten's friends that night. The same list of people he gave you. I believe you already have them written down. Though, they know me better as Winnie. That's what I've been going by." Yeah, and thankfully, I was smart enough to use a different fake ID to get the bus tickets back here.

"Great, thank you for your time." The officer doesn't seem pleased, but he leaves anyway, off to check my alibi. Airtight, my friend, that thing is airtight. These boys are too good at what they do for it not to be.

"Officer? Once you've cleared my alibi and I'm no longer a suspect, would it be alright for me to return home? It's been almost five months since I've seen my brothers. I'd really like to go back." I let a single tear fall from my right eye, brushing it away quickly and looking down.

"Of course," the man's voice is soft, understanding, "but it will have to be after we clear you, alright?"

"Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you so much." And he leaves.

"You're a good actress," Ten tells me a few minutes later.

"I grew up in foster care and hustle pool for money. Of course I'm a good actress. Besides, that wasn't difficult. I do actually want to see my family again. I want to put this behind me."

"Maybe you can call them. It won't take too long for them to check in with everyone, especially since most of them will be at the same place today. You'll probably be able to leave tomorrow or the day after, at the latest."

"I think I will. Thank you, Ten, for everything."

"You don't have to. Y'know, if I weren't a criminal and so crappy with kids, maybe I'd've fostered you back then."

"Maybe. But maybes and what ifs are worthless. So let's leave them be. I do appreciate the sentiment, though." I walk over and give him a hug. "I'm going to call my brothers. I'm so excited to finally go home." I hurry to my room, pulling out my phone.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Ava! Oh, my God, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. I'm sorry for leaving like that. I just wanted to let you know, I should be coming home in a few days at most."

"Screw that, we're coming to you. Where are you?"

"Sam, it's no trouble, I can just get a bus home."

"Shut up. I haven't seen you in five months. We're coming to get you. Where?"

"Houston. I've been staying with Ten. When you get close, call me again and I'll give you the address."

"Great. Can I ask, though? Why come home now?"

"Hasn't it made the news by you, yet? Hank Andrews is dead. America's most recent serial killer has been killed. As soon as they check out my alibi, I get to go home."

"Oh, Ava, that's great news. We'll be there in a few hours, okay? Just sit tight." And like that, he hangs up, leaving me to wait. I settle in with my laptop, logging into the game without hesitation. There's a response to my earlier message.

_Good. When will you be going home?_ It was sent a while ago, but he's still online.

_In the next day or so. My brothers are actually going to pick me up._ It takes a little bit, but the little dots show up, indicating he's typing. He probably had to finish a quest.

_You finally called them?_

_Technically, they bumped into someone who knows me and called me first. But yes, I spoke to them._

_And how are they?_

_Well, after they rip me a new one for the vanishing act, we'll be fine. I just can't wait to see them again._

_I'm sure._ _I plan to. I should go. It's late here. That was my last quest for the night._

_Get some sleep. Hopefully, we'll talk soon._


	49. Chapter 49

As per usual, it seems Dean has entirely ignored the speed limit signs and gunned it the entire way here. They're almost two whole hours ahead of schedule, making the trip in eight rather than ten hours.

"Hey, Ava. We just wanted to let you know we're in the Houston city limits. Where should we go?"

I give them the address and general directions from the section of the city I know. Twenty minutes later, I hear the rumble of the Impala outside. I practically leap off the couch.

"Something wrong?" Ten asks from his place across the room.

"No, but I heard a car outside that I'd recognize anywhere." He doesn't speak, just looks at me, but I know he wants me to tell him who.

"It's my brothers," I call on my way out the door at a dead on sprint. I hit the stairs, avoiding the wait at the elevators, and leap down them as fast as I physically can.

"Dean!" The cry rips from me as I see my brother for the first time in five months. I slam into him, wrapping my arms around him as tight as possible.

"Ava," he rumbles and holds me close. He leans down and gives me a soft kiss on the top of my head. "We missed you so damn much."

"I know, Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run without telling you anything. I should've had some way to contact you. I'm so, so sorry."

"I wish I had the heart to yell at you," he sighs, "but I don't think I can. I'm just so happy to have you back."

"Hey, let me have a hug, too," Sam whines. He's always the little brother to Dean, but the perfect big brother for me. Dean, as expected, pushes me to Sam.

"Hey, Ava. It's good to have you back," he murmurs against my hair, clinging to me like a lifeline.

"I'm so glad to be back," I whisper, "I missed you so, so much. I'm so, so sorry."

"There something I'm missing here?" A new voice crops up and I spin to face him. It's the officer from earlier.

"These are my brothers. When you said it might be okay for me to go home, I called them."

"I see. Well, then you'll be glad to hear that your alibi checked out. You're clear to leave." He passes me a card with his number. "Please be aware we may contact you and ask you to come back, but I don't think that's likely since your alibi is so solid. Have a wonderful day." He gives a little nod, turns, and walks away.

"Um, well, unless you want to spend the night here-"

"No way. We need to get you home." I think Dean can see it in me. The way I'm standing probably says everything he needs to know, now that he's learned how to read me. I'm about to break down, but I need to be somewhere safe to do that.

"Then I'll just run up and grab my bags. I'll be back down in two minutes." And I take off, once again, only pausing for a moment to say goodbye to Ten before I race back to my brothers. As soon as my bags are stored safely in the trunk, we're off.

"What happened these past few months. We know you've been hunting."

"Yeah, I have. I know you've heard about me."

"Damn straight," Dean grumbles, "you almost made us look bad."

"It's alright… There's something I need to do, once I recover from having to face him again."

"What is it?" Sam turns to face me, while Dean just glances into the rearview.

"I found out recently my mom is actually alive. I need to find her. I- I want to see her go to jail."

"Revenge isn't all that sweet, is it?"

"Not the type of revenge I just got. But he had technically served his term, there was no more jail for him. So I did what I needed to make sure he could never touch anyone again."

"How do you feel?" Dean is the one to ask this time.

"Honestly? I was expecting some amount of weight off my shoulders. Maybe I got a little stress taken from me, but I still have to deal with what happened in my past. That's something just killing him can't handle."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Sam pipes in.

"No. They'll ask me to talk about what happened these five months. I can't do that. I can't tell them I killed him. Working through this is something I need to do alone."

"And we'll support you through this."

"I need one promise from you. When I find my mom, will you let me do what I need to in order to bring her to justice?"

"What do you mean?"

"If it means leaving home again, would you let me? With stipulations, of course," I look down, to my hands. I don't want to leave so soon, but I need to get everything from my past squared away before I can do anything else.

"No." Dean's answer reverberates through the car. "You're never leaving us on your own again."

"Dean," Sam says, always the voice of reason, "I don't like it either. We just got her back. But if Ava needs to handle getting her mom on her own, then we need to let her."

"I don't-"

"If I went anywhere without you, I would text or email once a day, call three to four times a week, and you could visit- provided Cas brings you- twice a month. How does that sound?"

"I still don't like it."

"It's not a done deal, Dean. I just need to know because this is something I will have to do."

"Fine. But, if you go anywhere, we will help you ge a place to live- no motels- and know the address. And we can visit once a week."

"Every other."

"Ava…"

"Dean, once a week is too much. Calm down. We'll be talking to her every other day, anyway. And like she said before, she's not going anywhere yet."

"No, I'm not. I have to get over this mess, first."

"I guess I can handle that, then." The whiney voice he uses sparks the usual bickering between the two. I can't help but smile. It's good to be back.


	50. Chapter 50

**Time Jump: One month**

It's been a month since I walked through the door to the bunker. My breakdown was, for lack of a better word, epic. I screamed, I cried, and I had nightmares galore. I ended up pretty much living in my room for the whole month, only leaving for the bathroom and food. I never once stepped foot outside the bunker.

In any event, I didn't have a nightmare last night, I haven't cried in a week, and there've been no flashbacks in two weeks. I'd say that's progress and I think I can actually say that I've managed to exit the breakdown. I'm back (mostly) to normal.

Wow, my normal is fucked up.

Any-who, it's time to get down to business finding my mom. I pull out my laptop and set my fingers on the keyboard. Avallon Moore is dead. But Lonnie Mason, the alias Romero knows her by, is very much so alive and kicking.

**Time skip: one week**

It takes me a whole week to find everything I can on Lonnie Mason. I know now what town she's operating out of. But I can't figure out what name she's using to purchase land. I just know what name she's using to distribute drugs. That doesn't help me find her "legal" name.

Still, if I know the town, I can find her. I know what she looks like all too well. So now, Sam and Dean will have to help me find somewhere to live. And I'll need a fake passport and birth certificate.

I'm moving to Japan.

**Time skip: two weeks**

With my passport and ticket in hand and all my bags already delivered to the apartment, I stride through the airport, Sam and Dean right behind me, all the way to the security line.

"I love you guys," I say, wrapping them in tight hugs. "I'll text you when I'm boarding, when we're about to take off, and when I land. I'll call once I reach the apartment." I pull them close once more, "and don't worry, I'll see you guys next week when Cas brings you."

"Love you, Ava! Stay safe over there," Sam orders, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Love you, kiddo," Dean rumbles, mimicking Sam and kissing me. "We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," I agree. "But I think this will be good for me. Plus, if nothing else, I'll get to finish high school." They both laugh at that and give me a gentle push to the gate.

It's the third week of April and, while I'm a little late to the start of the school year, I'm not so far behind that I can't catch up. I'll get to finish my education over there, catch my mom, and maybe even heal a little. Who knows?

**Epilogue: 10 years later**

Shortly after waking up every morning, I shuffle through the kitchen. I have a restaurant of my very own. No, I'm not a hunter anymore. Heck, I don't even live in the States anymore. After that long year, I chose to stay here in Japan.

Yes, my mom is in jail, serving a heck of a long sentence. And that brought me more satisfaction than seeing that bastard die.

If you couldn't tell by the fact that I chose to stay in Japan, coming here was one of the best decisions I could have made. I like to believe that everything bad that happened to me before means that I won't have to handle as much hardship now. I've got the normal stuff now, just bills and relationships and annoying brothers, but aside from that, my life is almost terrifyingly apple pie.

After I came to Japan, I made a bunch of friends. Some of which, I ended up being even closer to than Jacks. I guess I should say, he became a full-time hunter. I knew he'd be good at it, but being full time… Well, it wasn't the right choice. He's not a Winchester, so for him, there was no second chance. He died mid-way through my first year here. It was a vampire nest, one he tried to take on all alone. I can't say I set a good example, so I can't call him an idiot. Am I angry my choices led him down that path? Yes, very much so. But do I think anything could have stopped him? No. He was going to do something like that eventually. It's a hunters life. They all die young.

I still get pictures of people from Nikolai sometimes, asking if they're safe. It's not too frequent anymore. He and Ten seem to understand that I need to be cut off from that world now that I own my own business. My boyfriend, who I met in high school, helped me start it up. He went to school for a business degree while I attended a culinary college. We've been dating a very long time, but neither of us is ready for marriage. We've discussed it, but we just aren't there yet. Not because we don't love each other or think we'll ever break up, but because marriage just isn't our ideal.

My brothers still visit every other week. Cas and Dean are a couple- I won that bet and earned myself forty bucks. Sam and Gabe also ended up together shortly after, but the winner there was Jacks. Despite everything, I've distanced myself from their job. They all still hunt. Dean, I know, is looking to get out. He wants a kid, I think, but believes he can't have that with the job. I'd have to agree, but I think the name is going to be the bigger problem.

The thing is, I no longer publicly call myself a Winchester. That name is dangerous. I've left behind Ava Winchester, only taking on that name when I need to protect my family. Aside from that, everything that happened to me under that name is something that no longer affects me. I've put that into the past. The new me is strong, and confident, and independent, and finally, finally off medication. The new me can kick ass to protect her family at the same time that she preps dinner. The new me is someone I love and will never give up.

So today, as a djinn once again tries to punch me in the face, I grin and beat him back. I don't seek out monsters, sometimes they just show up. But it gives me a way to keep my skills sharp.

"Who are you?" he gasps as I raise the blood-coated dagger. "You're just a little girl? How could you beat me?"

"Don't you know not to underestimate the Winchesters?" His eyes go wide and he mouths the word "you," but the dagger is already through his heart. I haven't lost my touch yet, and I don't intend to.

After all, I am Winnie Jackson, the fourth Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a few things before you go. Thank you to everyone for reading this! It really means a ton to me, from those who have been there from the beginning to anyone who may read this in the future. Having someone enjoy my writing is what I live for, so thanks! And to anyone who reviewed, it really meant a lot to me and the encouragement is what kept this fic going, even if I did have a bad habit of disappearing for a while without warning... So please, let me know how you felt about the ending, and if you have any comments on my writing style or anything you think I could improve on for future fics, let me know in a PM. I'd love any advice I can get.
> 
> Also, this fic spanned a great deal of time, both in the fic and in the real world. It's been over a year since I started it and I'm so, so glad I did. I got to work out a bunch of things I was struggling with in here and I'm really, truly grateful that I wrote it.
> 
> For anyone wondering, I do plan to write the boy's POV for this, so stay tuned. That'll probably get started once I've gotten about ten or so chapters into my next fic. I don't anticipate either POV being nearly as long or intensive as this is, but I will try to make it as detailed and accurate as possible!
> 
> Also, there will be a sequel from Ava's POV. However, the last chapter was designed so you don't have to read the sequel to have a satisfactory ending. While writing this, I found myself imagining Ava in another fandom and it worked really well and caught in my head, so I edited my ending to make it plausible and that's why there's such a huge time skip. You don't have to read this one to understand the sequel and you don't need to read the sequel if you don't want to. The next one is also engineered so that you don't have to have seen any of Supernatural to understand what's happening. In any event, I just wanted you all to know that option was out there, especially for those of you who have seen Haikyuu!! (which is my favorite anime and manga of all time. I live off it).
> 
> As for some stats on the fic:
> 
> Pages: 101
> 
> Words: 58,811
> 
> Chapters: 50
> 
> Time: A year and a half (551 days)
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone for reading and I'll miss you all! ~


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